


Frankly Perfect

by LadySmutterella



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, dating agency au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySmutterella/pseuds/LadySmutterella
Summary: Of all the things Gerard ever expected to come out of starting a band, Frank running a dating agency is maybe the last thing that would have occurred to him.
Which just goes to show how much he knows.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andeincascade (Ande)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/gifts).



> Dear Andeincascade,
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! Your prompt was brilliant and I wish I could have included everything you wanted.
> 
> Hopefully I managed to include Friends to lovers, Pretend dating, AUs, Pining, Cross-dressing, genderfuck, and Characters who have to work for their happy ending. 
> 
> Trust me, they *really* work for their happy ending :)

Of all the things Gerard ever expected to come out of starting a band, Frank running a dating agency is maybe the last thing that would have occurred to him.

Which just goes to show how much he knows.

“Frankly Perfect. How can I help you today?” Frank has a really good chipper phone voice, an excellent range of comforting humming noises, and, most importantly, an uncanny knack of matching people up in a way that is all at once completely unexpected and horribly successful.

It’s quite something to watch, and Gerard is spending far too much time in the spare room of Frank’s apartment, which has been repurposed into a temporary office, unable to look away as Frank flicks through a mix of social media, photos, and some alarmingly worded questionnaires in order to find the next couple who are destined to be together.

He’s only got himself to blame for this, he guesses. Well, himself and a particularly long (and boring) gap between albums. Without that, Frank might never have bothered doing this in the first place. But a Frank without a project is never a pleasant experience, and Gerard still thinks it was self-defense that made him point out that the fans that Frank matched up when they had spare tickets for shows seemed to fall into an unusually high number of happy relationships.

He might have made the strategic error of calling Frank _Cupid_.

So, this is all Gerard’s fault and he has nobody to blame but himself for the mess he’s in now.

He can’t wholly regret it though, not when Frank looks this happy and relaxed as he hangs up the phone and leans back in his chair.

“Another satisfied customer?” Gerard asks, just so he gets a share of Frank’s smile.

Frank nods. “The girls I sent to Against Me!. They’re seeing each other again.”

“Of course they are.” Gerard shakes his head, but his voice is doing that ridiculous, fond thing that it’s had a tendency to do recently, and he’s grinning back at Frank. “You’re good at this, you know.”

Frank shrugs, biting his lip. “I kinda am. In fact…” He takes a deep breath. “I had an investor call me this morning. He’s seen what I’m doing and said he was interested in helping me set it up full time.”

“Full time?” Gerard can’t keep the horror out of his voice. “But, Frankie, the band…”

“Is my priority,” Frank says, his voice sure. “But if I could keep this going while we were recording and touring…”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, the coil of panic in his stomach unknotting a little. “It’d be a good income generator, I guess.”

“Income generator?” Frank laughs, shaking his head. “Fuck that noise, dude. Just think of all the people we’ll be helping.” His expression softens. “All those people who’ll get to find someone they can share things with, share music with, share their…”

He trails off and Gerard stretches out his legs so he can bump against Frank’s feet.

“You’ll find someone,” he says. “Someone who can cope with the touring and music.” _Someone who appreciates you_ he carefully doesn’t say, because Frank’s internalized the last few shit-storms of relationships and is convinced it’s his fault they ended.

Frank shrugs at him. “Whatever. But if I can help other people then…”

“Yeah.” Gerard nods, feeling suddenly awkward about his initial response. “You should do that.”

“I knew you’d agree,” Frank says, but there’s a barely concealed note of relief to his voice. “So…” He pauses and looks up at Gerard from under his lashes. “I was thinking… Maybe you could do me a favor?”

It’s an ominous statement, and Frank’s puppy-dog eyes only make it worse.

“What?” Gerard asks, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as Frank leans forward, doing his best to look unthreatening. “Frankie? You’re creeping me out. Just tell me.”

“It’s the Passaic Chamber of Commerce Christmas Luncheon tomorrow and I've been nominated for a thing, if you'll believe that,” he says, but he’s smiling to himself, and Gerard _knows_ he’s proud of this. “And the investor, Justin, said he’d meet me there and…”

“And?” Gerard asks, doing his best to hold onto the last of his cool. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Frank says, and the longer he puts off asking for whatever this favor is, the more anxious Gerard is getting. “The thing is, I kinda need a date for the event.”

“A date?” Gerard says, blinking at Frank. “You want _me_ to find you a date for the awards ceremony tomorrow?”

“No,” Frank says and he still won’t make eye contact with Gerard. “No, I thought, you know, maybe, you could _be_ my date? Being single and running a dating agency isn’t really a good look for the investors.”

“Me?” Gerard knows he sounds stupid – hell, he _feels_ stupid. Frank’s _straight_. He’s always been straight. Okay, there was that time in tenth grade, with that kid Johnny Whatever. But that was a drunken handjob, and Frank said he was never that into it anyway, and Gerard’s _respected_ that. “I… what?”

“It’s fairly simple,” Frank says, and there’s the tiniest edge of something that Gerard can’t parse in his tone. “I’d like you to go to the Christmas party with me, you know. Like you were my date.”

“Oh.” Enlightenment dawns. “You mean like a fake date?” Gerard laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, no, Frankie. That won’t work.”

“Why?” Frank asks, and if Gerard didn’t know him better he’d think he was being defensive.

“Because it’s _us_ ,” Gerard says, waiting for Frank to get the joke. “I mean, everyone knows us! They know we’re not dating – they’ll never buy it. Also…” He gestures airily at the walls. “There'll be some sort of press coverage, right? We wouldn't want this to hit the internet..”

Frank looks at him thoughtfully. “So, you’re not saying you don’t want to go.”

“Of course not,” Gerard says. “I’d love to go.” He pauses and takes in Frank’s disbelieving look. “You know I'm all about free Christmas lunches, and it'd be fun to hang out with you. I just don’t think it’d work and…”

He only realizes his mistake – that he’s been too enthusiastic – when Frank surges out of his chair and starts squishing himself into the love seat next to Gerard.

“C’mon,” he says, in the sort of plaintive tone that does things to Gerard’s insides. “You know you want to do it. You know it’s gonna be fun. Anyway…” He looks at Gerard, his face altogether too close for Gerard to be comfortable. “If you do this for me I’ll…”

He pauses, and Gerard feels a sense of overwhelming dread.

“You’ll what?”

Frank pauses for a second, his eyes darting to Gerard’s lips in a way that does nothing for Gerard’s peace of mind, before his face lights up. “I’ll find you your perfect match, that’s what.”

“My perfect match?” Gerard repeats faintly. “What makes you think I need a perfect match?”

“Of course you need a perfect match!” Frank sounds vaguely scandalised that Gerard would ever doubt this. “I mean, I’m not saying anything, but…”

“But?” Gerard asks, his tone clipped and his stomach twisting unpleasantly.

“Well.” Frank elbows him in the ribs. “You’ve kinda lost your game since Bert, dude.”

It cuts a little too close to the bone, and Gerard covers it up by pulling himself up and leaving the chair to Frank.

“It’s a stupid idea, Frank. The internet’ll be all over this if they think we’re together. We’ll never live it down. I mean… think of the band.”

“Oh.” The smile falls off Frank’s face. “Right. Yeah.” He pulls his legs up under him, curling in on himself. “I just thought it would be a good way to do this.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says. “I get that, just…” He looks at the defeated curve of Frank’s spine. “Don’t you have another friend you could ask?”

“Hmmm?” Frank looks up at him then shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll go stag.” He laughs, but it isn’t a pleasant sound, and there’s less than no joy in it. “No point in letting everyone know my magic matches never work for me.”

“You’ve been looking?” Gerard’s not sure why he’s shocked by this, all he knows is that he _is_.

“Yeah.” Frank looks away, his cheeks pink. “But. Well. It doesn’t work. I must have unrealistic expectations or something.”

He gives Gerard a look that Gerard can’t read, and Gerard has just taken a breath to ask him about it when the phone rings.

“Hold that thought,” Frank says and swings himself out of the chair. But he doesn’t answer the phone with his usual exuberance, and even though it seems to be a new client, he doesn’t seem as excited as he usually is.

Gerard doubts the client notices though. Even on his worst day, Frank is good at what he does. He takes their details, gets into a laughing exchange about musical taste, and promises that he will do what he can for them. But when he hangs up, the smile falls back off his face, and Gerard feels a twist of guilt in his stomach.

“How do you do it?” he asks, more to distract Frank than anything else. 

Frank blinks back to the real world. “Do what?”

“Find their perfect matches.”

“Dunno.” Frank shrugs. “I guess I think of it like trying to find someone to go to a gig with them. Are they gonna like the same music, what are they going to want to eat and drink…” He looks at the notepad in front of him, his forehead creased in thought. “They just seem to match, you know?”

It’s an interesting thought, and not one that Gerard’s every applied to himself before. But Frank’s offer has shaken him, and he can’t get it out of his mind.

“So, what are you gonna look for in a match for me?” he asks. 

Frank looks up at him sharply. “For you?” he asks, and when Gerard nods he looks away, shrugging. “Dunno.” He fiddles with some papers on his desk. “Won’t matter anyway, will it? You’re not gonna help me, so I’m not going to have to set you up.”

“But what did you look for when you were looking for yourself?” Gerard asks, knowing he’s prying but not able to stop himself. “You said you’ve gone on dates, so you’ve gotta have an idea about that.”

“Does it matter?” Frank asks. “None of them worked out anyway.”

“I guess,” Gerard says. “I just wanted to know.”

“They were creative,” Frank says, like he doesn’t want to be answering. “Clever. Over-thinking everything. Ridiculously enthusiastic about the things they believe in.” He sighs. “Too good for me, I guess.”

It makes Gerard bristle and he goes to perch on the edge of Frank’s desk so he can nudge Frank’s shoulder.

“Can’t have been that clever,” he says. “Not if they didn’t notice how amazing you are.”

Frank smiles at that, but it doesn’t stay. He still looks beaten down and Gerard can’t bear it.

“Maybe,” Gerard says. “Maybe we _can_ do this.”

“What?” Frank looks up at him, confused but not lifeless any more.

“Someone creative,” Gerard says, his excitement rising as he thinks of how he can do this. “Someone clever. Someone pretty enough to be a good match for you.”

Frank shakes his head though. “Nah,” he says. “You were right. The internet is going to be all over this.”

“Not if it isn’t me,” Gerard says, full of his own cleverness.

“I… what?” Frank blinks up at him. “What the fuck are you talking about, Gee?”

“Nothing. Just.” Gerard looks at him and rubs Frank’s arm. “Trust me? The event’s tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Frank nods, looking confused. “At 8.”

“Right.” Gerard stands up, grinning at Frank and picturing how pleased Frank will be when he sees what Gerard has planned. “I’ll meet you here at 7. Dress up nice.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response. He has a lot to plan before tomorrow after all.

—

“Are you sure about this?”

Mikey sounds awfully sceptical for some reason and Gerard has no idea why – his idea is foolproof, after all.

“No one’ll know it’s me,” he says, his words slightly muffled as he rummages through his mother’s closet for an outfit. “It’s all perfectly safe, Mikes.”

Mikey snorts ungracefully. “But is it _wise_?” he asks.

Gerard frowns, emerging from the closet with a selection of tops in hand.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, shooing Mikey out of the way so he can put the tops on the bed to check which one works best. “What do you mean _wise_?”

Mikey sighs, shaking his head slightly. “There are feelings…” he starts, but Gerard waves his hand, cutting him off before he can get started.

“That’s fine,” he says breezily. “Those won’t be a problem.” He frowns down at a dark red top and twitches its hem so that he can judge it properly. He’s going for a natural look after all – something too low cut would be disastrous. “I’m used to dealing with them now.”

For some reason that doesn’t make Mikey look any happier.

“But Frank…”

“Doesn’t have to know,” Gerard says firmly. “We’ve talked about this before, Mikey. Leave it.”

Mikey sighs. “Not quite what I meant,” he says, pulling out something black and sleek from the bottom of the pile and holding it up for Gerard to look at. “Just be careful, okay?”

 

—

Gerard’s going to be very careful. He doesn’t need his brother to tell him this. Gerard’s been careful with his feelings about Frank for _months_ now; careful while they were recording, careful when they were on tour, careful during this whole dating agency thing. Being careful is second nature to Gerard now – he’s not going to slip up during one dumb fake date.

Still, he’s unaccountably nervous as he stands outside the door of Frank’s apartment, fingering the key Frank gave him months ago. Gerard has never been under the impression that it’s anything but a platonic key, an in-case-you-need-somewhere-to-crash-in-the-middle-of-the-night or a don’t-make-me-get-off-the-couch-to-let-you-in-when-I’m-this-fucking-baked sort of thing, but Gerard loves the feel of it on his keychain, loves that Frank trusts him enough to come and go as he pleases.

There’s no choice though – he’s made a promise to Frank and he’s not going to let him down now. So he squares his shoulders, opens the door, and pastes a smile on his face as he steps inside.

It takes Frank a second to notice him – he’s sitting on his sofa, frowning down at his book – but when he does his jaw drops open and he makes a noise like he’s swallowed his tongue. Gerard grins, delighted.

“I know,” he says, executing a neat spin to showcase the way his skirt flares. “No one’s ever gonna guess, are they?”

“Guess?” Frank says, faintly.

“That it’s me!” Gerard blinks at Frank, unused to how the mascara on his lashes catches his vision. “C’mon, Frankie – if you didn’t know it was me, you wouldn’t guess, would you?”

“No.” Frank looks up and down Gerard and Gerard preens, striking a pose to show off the way the fabric of his skirt skims down his leg, to highlight how his waist is cinched in by a wide belt that makes the red silk of his blouse billow in a manner that suggests attributes that Gerard usually lacks. “No, Gee. No one would think this was you.”

‘See?” Gerard grins at him. “I said I’d fix it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Frank’s voice sounds odd, and he doesn’t seem to be as pleased as Gerard thought he would be. “Yeah, you certainly did.”

“Hey.” Gerard takes a step forward, concerned that he’s made a grave miscalculation. “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

His concern must show on his face because Frank moves quickly to close the gap between them and put his hand on Gerard’s arm.

“I love it,” he says. “You look amazing. I just…” He bites his lip. “Are you sure this is such a good idea, Gee?”

There’s something hesitant about his voice, and it makes Gerard pause.

“Yeah,” he says at last. “I mean, I think so?” He puts his hand on Frank’s waist. “You needed help, Frankie, and this…” He shrugs, glances down at the outfit he’s in, from the high-heeled, knee-length boots to the soft, red silk shirt he chose. “It was the only way I could think of that I could help.”

Frank looks at him, searchingly, like he’s looking for the traces of his friend under the makeup and hairspray, and even though Gerard’s tested this out shopping earlier, growing smugger with each shop assistant who called him _ma’am_ , he’s nervous now. This is _Frank_ and it’s suddenly very important that Gerard passes. 

“So, this is you helping?” Frank asks, his voice careful. “You’re not…”

“Not?”

Frank shrugs defensively. “Not having a laugh at my expense.”

“Of course not.” Gerard says, horrified. “Why would you even think that?”

Frank looks at him like he’s grown a second head for a second, then takes a step backwards, slipping back into his usual self as he does.

“How do you want to do this then?” he asks. Gerard lets out a sigh of relief, the unexpected tension of the last few minutes dissipating as if it had never happened.

“I thought you could bring me as your girlfriend,” he says. “We haven’t been going out long, which is why your friends haven’t met me yet, but…”

“I wanted to bring you to the Christmas party to show off to you?”

“Yeah.” Gerard grins at him. “Cuz till now I’ve only seen you as a handsome and talented guitarist and you wanted me to see you as a successful businessman.”

Frank looks at him strangely for a second, but then he nods. “So you’re doing this as my friend? To help me out?”

“Of course!” Gerard does his best to keep his voice calm, even if he can’t help the flush of guilt that colours his cheeks with the lie. “You’re my friend, Frank. Why else would I be doing this?”

For a moment he thinks Frank might be about to call him on the lie, but then Frank swallows and nods.

“My friend,” he repeats. “There’s no other reason you’d do this.”

“So…” Gerard smiles at him, suddenly shy. “You want to?”

Frank looks at him for a long moment, like he’s making up his mind, but in the end he nods.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

—

They’re already at the party when Frank leans in to whisper in Gerard’s ear.

“What should I call you?” he asks, and it’s only because it’s in role that Gerard takes the opportunity to slip his hand through the gap in Frank’s arm.

“Dunno,” Gerard whispers back, leaning in close enough that he can smell Frank’s cologne mingled with the scent of his skin. “How about Helena?”

Frank’s mouth twists in some complicated reaction that Gerard can’t read. “If you want.” He shoots Gerard a look. “Or we could go with something like Gemma – something that won’t matter if I fuck up and call you Gee.”

“Yeah.” Gerard grins at him. “That works.”

“Cool.” Frank’s lips are brushing against Gerard’s cheek as he speaks, and Gerard has to force himself not to shiver. “So, if you’re my girlfriend, how much physical contact is appropriate?”

It’s a serious question and one that Gerard should give proper consideration too, but Frank is warm against him, and Gerard can only ever be good for a given value of good.

“This,” he says, slightly breathless. “This is fine.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but Frank nods. “Okay.” His voice is slightly rough and it does things to Gerard in the worst way. “So, we’ll play it by ear, yeah? Just…” He runs the pads of his fingers down Gerard’s arm, the callouses catching at the soft skin. “You’ve gotta tell me if you get uncomfortable, okay?”

“Sure,” Gerard says, even though he’s fairly sure that he’s not going to be the one made uncomfortable here. “And… same, okay?”

Frank nods, and he might say something else but someone taps him on the shoulder and the moment is lost.

—

To begin with, it’s great. It’s not often that Gerard gets to have the sort of casual physical contact that he wants to have with Frank, and it’s only as the evening wears on that it starts to wear on him.

It’s no surprise that Frank is handsy – Frank is _always_ handsy – but there’s something almost possessive about his touches now that Gerard wasn’t expecting.

It doesn’t seem to matter who he’s talking to, what else he’s doing, Frank is constantly touching him, and Gerard – exhausted from months of trying to deny how he feels – is finding it almost impossible not to just relax into Frank’s touch.

But it’s not real though, and Gerard needs to remember that, and that’s the thought he forces to the forefront of his mind while they eat dinner and make polite conversation and wait for the business to finish and the dancing to start.

It’s not easy, though, and he has to admit he forgets when the highlights of the year are announced and Frank is called the best new business of the year. Frank blinks, stunned in the spotlight, and Gerard… well. Gerard gives in to the voice he’s been trying to ignore and he leans across to pull Frank into a rough hug.

He’s not sure that Frank even notices though. His eyes are wide and bright with delight, and he spares Gerard the barest glance before he’s on his feet and walking up to the stage.

“Thank you,” he says into the microphone when he gets there. “Thank you so much. This was honestly the last thing I expected, and I’m not sure I deserve it.” He pauses and the crowd laughs, good-natured and wine-warmed, but Gerard knows how genuine his words are, and his heart goes out to him. “I started this business because I play music with my friends, and we have fans, and the fans…” Frank clears his throat, like he’s nervous, and Gerard smiles from across the room. He’s not sure Frank can see him, but somehow – impossibly – he does, and he nods, his shoulders lowering slightly. “Some fans asked me for help with finding people to go to shows with them, and they seemed lonely.” He looks away from Gerard and down at his hands. “And maybe I know what it’s like to be lonely, to want someone or something that seems out of your reach, so I did what I could, and I’m still doing what I can, and I’m really grateful that you guys here see the value in that.” He nods, and Gerard fights down his rage at whatever – whoever – has hurt Frank like this and concentrates instead on being here now for Frank. “Thank you,” Frank says, on stage, and the people around Gerard start applauding, and Gerard stands up, clapping before he realizes he’s doing it.

“Was that okay?” Frank asks as soon as he gets back to the table, and Gerard throws caution to the wind and embraces the part he’s playing.

He feels the eyes of the whole room on him as he presses the first kiss to Frank’s lips, and it’s everything and nothing like those stage kisses he’s stolen before.

This is gentler, softer, more intimate, and even knowing that everyone is watching, Gerard could lose himself in it.

“Frank,” he murmurs in an undertone when they pull apart the barest inch to breathe. “ _Frank_ ,” and he leans in again, with Frank’s fingers tightening on his waist like he’ll never let Gerard go.

He’s not sure they’d stop kissing, though he’s sure he couldn’t say no – not now – but they’re in a public place and it can only be a bare handful of seconds before someone clears their throat.

“I’m not interrupting?” a man says, and Gerard’s about to snap _yes_ but Frank’s already saying no and shaking the guy’s hand.

“Justin Lawless,” the man says, reaching out to shake Gerard’s hand as well. “I’ve been talking to your boyfriend here about investing.” He grins and shoves Frank with his shoulder. “He’s all I’ve been hearing about recently – him and his magic touch setting people up.” He smiles at Gerard. “Not that I have to tell you that, obviously.”

“Yeah,” Frank says, glancing at Gerard then looking away even faster. “I really struck lucky here.”

“Good,” Justin says. “Good”. He gestures meaningfully between them. “It’s always great to see young love, and I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s gonna make the sell to the other investors way easier.”

“Other investors?” Frank says while Gerard freezes beside him.

“Oh!” Justin laughs at himself. “Didn’t I mention?” He waits for Frank to shake his head before he shrugs. “We need you to meet the other investors. I got a few events set up over the next week or two, but I’ve gotta say, it’s a bit of a relief you’ve got a girlfriend to bring with you.” He smiles benignly at them both. “The whole rock star thing – it might be a selling point, but it makes the investors nervous as well. Someone like…” He pauses and raises an eyebrow.

“Gemma,” Frank says, his fingers digging bruises into Gerard’s hip, but otherwise seemingly at ease.

“Gemma,” Justin repeats, smiling. “Well, someone like Gemma gives you a sense of security, stability. They’re gonna like that, Frank.”

Frank only gets a chance to nod before Justin is off, his attention claimed by someone else, and Frank watches him go for a few long moments before he turns to Gerard.

“Outside?” he asks. Gerard takes his hand and nods.

The air outside is cool enough that Gerard wishes he’d brought a proper jacket, but one look at the frown on Frank’s face and decides not to mention it.

“It’s a big opportunity,” he says instead, and Frank nods.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “It would be good. But…” He finally looks up and makes eye contact with Gerard. “Well. It’s not actually possible, is it?”

“What?” Gerard asks, horribly confused and Frank sighs.

“We’re not dating, Gee,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining to a child – or an idiot.

“Oh.” Gerard blinks at him. “Well, yeah. But…”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Frank says, but he reaches out and takes hold of Gerard’s wrist like he wishes he could. “A one off evening is great and I’m grateful, but I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

It’s not like Gerard hasn’t expected this – hell, it’s why he’s never said anything about how he feels in the first place – but he’s still shocked by how much it hurts, a cut from a blade he hadn’t seen.

“Oh,” he says in a small voice. “Okay.” He looks down at where Frank’s fingers are wrapped around his arm, and he wishes he could pull away. “I guess I just thought…”

He’s not sure what he’d say, but he doesn’t get the chance. They’re interrupted by two girls, all cute hair and tattoos, their arms looped around each other even as they smile at Frank.

“Oh, hey.” The taller girl looks at Frank like all her Christmases have come at once, and God, Gerard knows that feeling. “So, I’m sorry for butting in, but I had to come and thank you.”

“Thank me?” Frank sounds confused and Gerard, taking his chances where he can, slips his arm possessively around Frank’s waist.

“Yeah.” The other girl is shorter, slight and cute like a flower fairy from an urban dystopia, a halo of pale, corkscrewing hair framing her delicate features. “You set us up.”

“Oh,” Frank says, and then again with conviction: “Oh!”

The taller girl grins. “Seriously,” she says. “Thank you. You saved my life. I was so lonely, you have no idea. And then you answered my tweet, and I went to the gig, and…” She smiles at the girl next to her. “My life changed, and I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” Frank says, pulling free from Gerard so he can hug them both. “It was my pleasure. Really.”

They step back, polite and respectful and that alone makes Gerard smile at them.

“Oh, God.” The smaller girl takes a step back. “I’m so sorry! We’re ruining your date and…”

“No!” Frank puts his arm around Gerard and pushes him forward. “This is my.. um…” He looks at Gerard, desperation clear in his eyes.

“Date,” Gerard says, sounding as if he’s sure, and Frank’s face melts in gratitude.

“My date,” Frank repeats. “Gemma.”

The girls both beam at him, stepping close to kiss him on the cheek with the easy, uninhibited contact of women.

“It’s so good to meet you,” the tall girl says, “and so good to know you’ve got someone.” She smiles at Frank, like she has a vested interest in his happiness. “You make so many people happy – you deserve to be happy as well.”

“Thank you,” Frank says, and there are more hugs and kisses and heartfelt farewells until Gerard feels buffeted by it all.

Still, as he watches them walking off, he feels a sense of accomplishment that he knows he’s not earned.

“If I got the investment,” Frank says slowly, “it would mean this could carry on while we were on tour.”

“Yeah.” Gerard bites his lip. “You should do it, Frank. I’ll help.”

Frank turns to look at him, his eyes wide and his face beautiful and vulnerable, and Gerard catches his breath.

“It might be awkward,” Frank says, and Gerard shrugs.

“Hey.” He knows he shouldn’t do it, but the temptation is too strong and he pulls Frank close for a hug. “It’s not a hardship, Frankie.” For a few long seconds they stand still, Frank’s breath heating Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard’s hands digging into Frank’s sides, then Gerard drags in a breath and takes a step back.

“Anyway,” he says, casual like he’s not fucking up his life in every way he can think of. “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

 

—

 

“You did what?” Mikey asks while Ray looks on wide-eyed from his position in front of the playstation in what looks suspiciously like horror. “Gee, are you fucking insane?”

“No?” Gerard says, but his voice lacks the conviction he’d hoped for.

“Seriously?” Mikey flaps his hands, clearly unable to say everything he wants to say all at once. “ _Seriously_?”

“I think...” Ray stands up and pushes Mikey into a seat. “What your brother is trying to say is, have you thought through what you’re doing here? Cuz…”

“God.” Gerard rubs his hand over his eyes, wishing he’d decided to get a place on his own rather than with Mikey. “I know. So, I’m in love with Frank. So, I’m pretending to be Frank’s girlfriend. So, he doesn’t know how I feel… Whatever.” He glares at them both. “I’m _fine_.”

“Yeah,” Ray says carefully. “But what about Frank?”

“What about Frank?” Gerard asks, aware he’s being rude, but not able to stop. “He gets proof his business works. He doesn’t have to trust anyone he’s not friends with. He doesn’t need to know about anything else.” He pauses and glares at them both again. “Right?”

Mikey shrugs, looking halfway between amused and despair, but Ray squares his jaw.

“That’s not what I meant,” he starts, but Gerard can’t bear to listen to any more of this.

“I get that you’re worried about me,” he says. “But seriously, you don’t need to be. I’m _fine_. I can cope with this. And Frank…” He breathes in, trying to find his centre. “He doesn’t need to know _anything_ , okay?”

He waits to see if either of them will argue with him, but they both look suspiciously innocent. In the end Gerard just turns on his heel and stalks out to his room.

—

Given how weird everyone else is acting, it’s a relief when Frank picks him up for their next date.

“Back tomorrow,” Gerard shouts, grabbing his overnight bag and rushing out of the apartment in a clatter of heels and cloud of perfume before Frank even has a chance to press the buzzer. No point in letting Mikey and Ray’s weird mood rub off on Frank, he thinks. The twenty minutes he’d had to spend before Frank arrived with his nose pressed to the window, waiting, were totally worth it.

“Hey.” Frank holds the door of the car open for him, glancing appreciatively at the sleek black dress Gerard chose for this evening. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” Gerard allows himself a brief moment of preening, which totally doesn’t count because Frank’s not even in the car yet. “I liked this dress.”

“Yeah.” Frank climbs into the car and fastens his seatbelt. “It, uh, suits you.”

Gerard shrugs. “Just as long as it’s suitable for this evening,” he says like he didn’t spend hours this afternoon hunting for just the right outfit. “It, uh, is, isn’t it?”

“God, yes,” Frank says, much too fast. “Seriously. You look perfect.”

He has to concentrate on the road after that, and Gerard lets himself relax into the seat as he starts going through the CDs that are threatening to overtake the footwell of the passenger seat.

“So, what is this evening?” Gerard asks when he’s chosen something to listen to. “You said to dress up and bring a change of clothes, but…”

“Sorry.” Frank shoots him a rueful grin. “I meant to call you back, but I got caught up in matches and…”

“Dude.” Gerard grins at him. “You don’t need to explain to me. The sooner you get the investment to recruit someone to support you, the better. I’m feeling neglected here.”

“You’re so high maintenance,” Frank says, but he sounds fond, and Gerard pokes him in the arm.

“That’s why you love me.”

“Yes,” Frank says, totally deadpan. “That’s totally it.”

“And you _still_ haven’t told me what it is we’re doing this evening.”

“Oh,” Frank says. “Yeah.” He carefully keeps his concentration on the road. “So, we’re, um, having dinner with Justin. To get to know him.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, slightly confused at Frank’s reticence to give him any details. “I gathered that much. What else?”

“And tomorrow he’s holding a brunch for some other investors,” Frank says, and Gerard nods.

“Explains the change of outfit, although…” He looks across at Frank. “Why exactly did I have to bring that with me now?”

“Yeah,” Frank says, an edge of hysteria to his voice. “So, that’s the funny thing.”

“Yes?” Gerard’s fairly sure that if he had spidey senses they’d be tingling now. “And what is this funny thing?”

“We’re staying over,” Frank says in a rush. “Justin’s invited us to stay the night.”

“Oh,” Gerard says faintly. “Well. That’s great.”

Frank glances a look at him. “Is it okay?” he asks, more nervously than Gerard can remember him sounding before. “Cuz I guess I can say that I forgot to tell you, if you want?”

Gerard looks at him and smiles. Frank wants this to succeed so much and Gerard’s his _friend_ – he should be helping, however he can. Not letting his stupid inconvenient feelings get in his way.

“Hey.” He reaches out and puts his hand on Frank’s knee, squeezing it in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. “Of course it’s okay. I mean, we’ll have our own room, right? It’s not like he’ll get a chance to see I’m really a dude.”

“And you don’t mind sharing with me?” Frank asks, his voice small.

“Of course not!” Gerard would cheerfully perjure himself a hundred times over if it took that worried expression off Frank’s face. “We’ve shared rooms hundreds of times, Frankie. Why would it be a problem now?”

“Cool,” Frank says, and Gerard carefully does his best to forget how he _hasn’t_ actually shared a room with Frank since the Feelings started being a problem.

It’ll be fine – he’s sure of it.

It starts off well enough. Justin is a charming host who’s done his best to make it a good evening for them. He’s gracious and welcoming, and has picked out a meal that Frank can eat, and that alone wins him a place in Gerard’s heart.

“You must be proud of him,” he says to Gerard as they walk into the dining room. “Not many boyfriends who are a rock star _and_ a successful businessman.”

“No.” Gerard finds himself looking at Frank, and can’t help the smile that springs to his lips. “He’s one of a kind alright.”

“Yeah,” Frank says, snorting. “Right.” But his cheeks are pink and the look he gives Gerard is almost shy.

“So.” Justin uncorks a bottle of wine and pours them both a glass. “How did you two meet?”

“At a show,” Gerard says, but his mind’s not really on his words. He doesn’t drink, not anymore, but he knows how awkward that makes some people and he doesn’t want to ruin this for Frank. He shoots Frank a look of mute entreaty, wishing they’d talked about this before and cursing his lack of foresight.

“Gi…na was one of the first people I tried to match,” Frank says, hooking his foot around Gerard’s ankle, and taking a sip from his wine. “I just couldn’t find anyone I thought was right for her.”

“So many dates,” Gerard says, shaking his head mock sadly and Justin laughs.

“It took me a while,” Frank says. “But in the end I worked out that the reason none of the matches worked was cuz I wanted to go out with her myself.”

“Seriously?” Justin says, turning to get the salad bowl from the sideboard. Frank takes advantage of his turned back and leans forward to swap his wine glass with Gerard’s. “That’s like something from a rom-com.”

“What can I say?” Frank says, taking a sip so that both glasses look like someone’s been drinking from them. “I’m just a romantic at heart.”

“Guess you must be,” Justin says, turning back to the table and putting the salad down. “Probably a prerequisite for running a business like yours.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Most of it is looking at what people like and trying to find someone who likes the same things.” Frank shrugs. “It’s not romantic, really.”

“It’s important, though,” Gerard says, and Frank’s eyes flash up at him. “I mean, you’re changing people’s lives every day. You’re giving them something to live for, someone to live with.” He looks down at his cutlery. “I think that’s important.”

“You’ve never said that,” Frank said. “I didn’t think…” He looks away. “I guess I thought you saw the agency as joke.”

“No!” Gerard reaches out and tangles his fingers with Frank’s. “That was the last thing on my mind, I swear.”

“Oh.” Frank smiles at him, small and pleased. “Cool.”

He turns back to Justin and they start talking about statistics and investors, but he doesn’t move his foot away from Gerard’s ankle, and throughout the evening he plays a clever game, swapping glasses with Gerard whenever Justin looks away and drinking both shares of wine.

Gerard doesn’t mind. It’s a novelty for him to get to take a back seat, and it’s a pleasure to watch Frank have a chance to shine. So he concentrates on his food, contributing a word or two when called on, but otherwise just watching Frank.

There’s a particular kind of energy Frank gets when he’s passionate about something and he’s showing it now, in the curve of his smile and the dance of his eyes; in his hand gestures and the way he’s leaning forward to make a point to Justin.

The agency has only been a part of his – of their – lives for a couple of months, but it’s clearly important to Frank – maybe more important than Gerard had even realized. And Frank looks happy with it. It’s a good look on him, Gerard thinks, so he sits and watches and takes a weird pleasure in providing the sort of supportive, loving touches that the girlfriend he’s pretending to be would provide.

—

They move to the sofas after dinner, and Justin opens another bottle of wine as they talk about places they’ve travelled to and sights they’ve seen.

“Guys,” Justin say at last when Frank’s just finished a highly improbable tale of their time in Japan and how he managed to set up a cute couple in the audience without even being able to speak Japanese. “I really think we’re onto something here. And you…” He drains the glass and refills it. “You’re so _cute_ together. No wonder you’ve such a successful business, with a girl like that at your side.”

“Darling,” Gerard purrs, crossing his legs so the nylon of his stockings rasps together. “I’m an inspiration.”

“I’ll bet,” Justin says, leaning back in his seat. “You’re a lucky man, Frank.”

“I count my blessings every day,” Frank says, tightening his hold around Gerard’s waist.

They’re very close together now and when Gerard turns his head to look at Frank, Frank’s lips skim across his temple. It makes Gerard catch his breath and he tries to push himself away from Frank, to give them both some space. But Frank seems to have a gravitational pull, and Gerard ends up almost facing Frank, his hand in the middle of Frank’s chest.

It draws Justin’s attention, but he waves a hand in benign, drunken blessing. “Don’t mind me,” he says. “You go ahead and kiss. All for young love here.”

He chuckles, but the air seems to crackle between Frank and Gerard.

“We don’t want to make a…” Frank starts, but his eyes are fixed on Gerard’s lips and his hand on Gerard’s waist is burning.

It’s too much temptation, and Gerard leans forward, brushing his lips against Frank’s.

He feels the sharp intake of Frank’s breath more than hears it, and for a second he thinks maybe Frank will push him away. But when he starts to pull back, Frank reaches out and catches him, cupping his hand around the side of Gerard’s neck, his eyes scanning Gerard’s face.

“Hey.” Frank’s voice catches on the word, and Gerard wonders what he would say if they were alone. But it’s a moot point because this wouldn’t be happening if Justin wasn’t here, and anyway Frank is leaning in and kissing him properly and Gerard momentarily forgets what words are for.

By the time Frank breaks the kiss, Gerard is breathless, and he makes a little mew of distress.

“Sorry,” Frank says, turning to Justin. “You were saying about the overseas opportunities…”

He’s trying to be professional, trying to hold himself together, but Gerard can feel the desperate thrum of his pulse where he’s gripping Gerard’s knee, like he’s afraid he’ll run away if he lets go. It makes something in Gerard relax, and he curls himself up on the sofa and pressing into Frank’s side, reaching for his wine glass and pretending to listen to what they’re saying.

It’s boring though. Who wants to talk about offices and IT solutions when you could be talking about music or art? Gerard figures that trophy girlfriends can be excused not caring about business details and he starts idly tracing patterns on Frank’s knee, wishing he had a sketchpad with him or that he could actually drink the glasses of wine that Justin keeps pouring for him. At least Frank still helps with that, even if he isn’t paying any attention to Gerard; as soon as Justin turns away, he drains Gerard’s glass for him, and Gerard watches as Frank’s skin becomes warmer and pinker and his gestures get bigger, wilder, less inhibited.

At last even Justin notices and he stands up.

“You guys should go to bed,” he says. “Got a busy day tomorrow if we’re gonna persuade the other investors to give us a chance.”

“Yeah.” Frank levers himself up off the sofa and offers a hand to Gerard. “Thanks again for letting us stay over.”

“No problem.” Justin leads them down the hall to the guest room. “Just don’t stay up too late – we need you on top form tomorrow.”

His smile is the furthest thing from a leer, but that doesn’t stop Gerard from blushing despite the fact that they won’t be doing any of the things that young couples probably would in their position.

“Night,” he says instead, with his best vapid smile firmly in place and ducks under Justin’s arm to get into the room.

“Yeah,” Frank says behind him. “See you tomorrow.”

Gerard hears the door close, but he’s too busy scowling at the bed to pay much attention. He’s shared with Frank before, of course, but this whole fake-dating thing has made…

His train of thought is abruptly derailed as Frank grabs hold of him and shoves him against the wall with enough force that the breath is knocked from his lungs.

They stand there for a second, eyes fixed on each other, breathing each other’s air.

“Do you,” Frank says at last, his eyes very dark and the colour high on his cheeks. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to concentrate with you there?”

“Sorry,” Gerard says, but the word comes out breathless and needy, and Frank barks out a laugh.

“You’re not,” he says. “I _know_ you, Gee.” He leans in, close enough that when he talks, his lips brush against Gerard’s. “You’re not sorry at all.”

Gerard’s not sure what he’s meant to say, but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a desperate, broken noise and Frank closes the distance between them and kisses the sound from his lips.

A better man than Gerard would push Frank away, a better man certainly wouldn’t bring his hands up and tangle them in Frank’s hair to pull him closer.

Gerard is not a better man.

Frank kisses like he does anything he cares about, passionate, whole-hearted – like he wants everything, wants to lose himself in it, wants it all now – and Gerard feels drunk on it.

He kisses back, matching Frank’s desperation with his own, all memories of Mikey’s warnings, all thoughts of tomorrow lost for the moment in the touch of Frank’s fingers and the feel of his lips.

He barely even registers how turned on he is until Frank pulls away and Gerard leans after him.

“Nuh-uh,” Frank says, pinning Gerard in place, wedging his thigh in between Gerard’s legs. “You’ve gotta let me…”

He bites his lip and gives up on words, sinking down onto his knees at Gerard’s feet.

He’s so pretty down there, looking up from under his lashes, and Gerard reaches down to touch his face. Except instead of pushing him away or pulling him onto his feet, Gerard runs the pad of his thumb over the soft expanse of Frank’s lower lip.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it certainly isn’t for Frank to turn his head slightly, and his eyes still fixed on Gerard’s, to close his lips around Gerard’s thumb.

“Fuck,” Gerard says, and he feels Frank smile around his thumb, even as he grips onto it with his teeth and swirls his tongue over it. “Frank…”

“What?” Frank asks, letting Gerard pull his hand free. “You don’t want to have a proper date with me, gorgeous?”

“You’re drunk,” Gerard says, but the words lack force, even though it’s yet another reason why he should put a stop to this and be the better person.

“Not that drunk,” Frank says, running the pads of his fingers up the back of Gerard’s thighs. “C’mon.”

His calluses are catching on the nylon of Gerard’s stockings, and Gerard is so turned on he can’t say anything at all, much less stop.

He tangles his fingers back in Frank’s hair and uses the leverage to pull his head back.

“Yeah,” Frank says, running his tongue over his lips. “Yeah, I like that.”

“God.” Gerard swallows and watches helplessly as Frank starts to push the fabric of the skirt up Gerard’s thighs.

It’s only when Frank has hitched the skirt to his waist that he remembers what he’s wearing underneath and he drops his head back so it hits the wall behind him with a dull thunk, not able to watch Frank when he sees.

He can tell, though. Tell by the catch in Frank’s breath and the way he gently pulls his fingers over the gauze of the fabric.

“Gee?” he says, his voice hushed. “Jesus, Gee. Did you buy these for me?”

He doesn’t sound shocked or disgusted, and that gives Gerard the courage to open his eyes and look down.

The panties are as shocking as he remembers. They had been bad enough when he put them on earlier and looked at himself in the mirror, but now with his erection tenting the sheer white lace of the fabric, they look obscene.

“I thought they fit the outfit,” he says, his voice shaking. ‘That they’d be the sort of thing a girl you’d like would wear.”

“God.” Frank’s voice is ruined. “Gee…”

He takes a breath, but instead of saying anything, he leans in and runs his tongue up the length of Gerard’s fabric covered cock. It takes everything Gerard has to stay standing.

Then Frank’s hands are on his hips, pinning him to the wall, and all Gerard can concentrate on is the hot, wet drag of Frank’s mouth, licking and sucking through the fabric, and the throb of his own cock as it swells and hardens and threatens to end this far too soon.

He might have stood a chance of lasting longer, but then Frank looks up at him, his eyes wide and his pupils blown as he mouths at the head of Gerard’s cock, and Gerard just _can’t_. He comes with a force that doubles him over, his fingers tightening helplessly in Frank’s hair.

It takes him a couple of seconds to come back to himself, and when he does Frank is resting his forehead on Gerard’s hip, his mouth still pressed to the ruined fabric of the panties, and his breathing erratic as he jacks himself off.

“Frank?” Gerard tries to push Frank’s head back so he can see his face, but Frank shakes his head, biting at the skin of Gerard’s hip and making a desperate, broken noise as he comes on the floor at Gerard’s feet.

“Fuck,” Gerard says, quietly and with feeling. “Fuck.” He sinks down to the floor, pulling at Frank until they are a tangle of limbs together, holding each other as their breathing slows and their sweat starts to dry.

Eventually they can breathe again. Gerard manages to push himself onto his feet, kicking off his high heels before he pulls Frank up off the floor and leads him to bed.

They don’t say anything, although Frank catches hold of Gerard’s hand as he turns away to find his sleep shirt and presses a kiss to his wrist. It makes Gerard’s heart lurch – it’s so close to everything he wants, but it’s not _right_. He’s stolen this from Frank, stolen the kisses and affection Frank wants to spend on a partner, and now that his hormones are temporarily sated he can remember why this is such a bad idea.

They get changed in silence and climb into bed together, and there is the smallest miserable moment of uncertainty, where Gerard isn’t sure what he should do or say to make this better, before Frank flicks off the light and wraps himself around Gerard.

_He’ll want to talk now_ Gerard thinks, but instead Frank’s breathing evens out and slows down, and he falls asleep, cradled against Gerard’s side. Gerard knows that he won’t be able to sleep, but he can’t move without waking Frank up, and Frank is a heavy, warm, comfortable weight against him, and before he knows it, he’s asleep as well.

—

He wakes up the next morning to Frank’s patented hangover noises and a slick of drool across his chest.

It should be disgusting, but instead Gerard feels unbearably fond. He does his best to tramp down those feelings in a way that should be second nature by now. It’s not though; practice doesn’t make some things easier.

He takes a moment to breathe in the scent of Frank’s skin and hair, and tightens his hold almost unconsciously.

It was just the drink, he thinks. Frank didn't mean anything by last night, and Gerard would be a dick if he made anything of it.

So he lies there and enjoys the stolen moments of holding Frank, and when Frank finally wakes up, he pretends to wake up with him.

“Hey.” Frank’s voice is mostly asleep, lost in the skin of Gerard’s shoulder. “Is there any water by the bed?” He pauses, drags in a deep, snuffling breath. “I feel like shit.”

“I’m not surprised,” Gerard says, using the opportunity to wriggle out from under Frank to fetch him a glass of water from the bathroom. “You were drinking for two.”

“Ugh.” There’s a Frank-shaped lump in the bed when he comes back into the room; the covers seem to have reclaimed Frank. “We shoulda just told him you don’t drink.”

“Eh.” Gerard puts the glass down on the bedside table and perches on the edge of the bed. “It would have made him awkward, and you two needed the chance to talk.”

“Maybe.” A hand flails out weakly from under the covers and Gerard presses the glass of water into it. “S’not going to do me much good if I can’t remember what I said though.”

“You can’t remember?” Gerard says, his stomach lurching. He hadn’t thought Frank was _that_ drunk, but what if Frank had been? What if Gerard took advantage of him and now Frank doesn’t even remember?

“Hey.” Frank sits up in bed and reaches out to put his hand on Gerard’s arm. “I can remember all the important things, okay?”

“Oh,” Gerard says, doing a very poor job of keeping the relief out of his voice. “Right.”

“So.” Frank hasn’t let go of Gerard’s arm, and he traces a pattern on it with his thumb. “Was it okay to, um, do that?”

It’s not like Frank to be reticent, but despite everything they do on stage, they’ve never done anything like this before, and Gerard realizes that Frank is worried they’ve ruined their friendship.

“Of course it was,” he says, putting his hand over Frank’s. “It was fine! I mean… it was great. I mean…” He stops and takes a breath, before pasting a smile onto his face. “Don’t worry.”

_I won’t make it awkward_ , he doesn’t say, but he means it, and he thinks maybe Frank understands.

“Oh, good.” Relief blooms on Frank’s face and his shoulders relax as his arms drop to his sides. “I just thought I might have been…”

“You were great,” Gerard says, reaching under the covers to take hold of Frank’s ankle. “It was great. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool.” Frank wriggles around so he can look at Gerard from under his lashes. “So, maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“Yes.” Gerard’s mouth is a traitor because he didn't give it permission to say that, but the word is out there now, and Frank’s face has lit up like Christmas, and Gerard’s not sure he wants to take it back anyway. “If you want to.”

“Yeah.” Frank grins at him. “Course I do. I just wasn’t sure you felt the same.”

He looks so hopeful, and Gerard bites his lip, wondering what to say to reassure Frank that he doesn’t expect anything from this.

“We’re doing the dating thing; what sort of friend would I be if I wasn’t willing to put out?” he says at last, grinning at Frank. “‘Sides. I enjoyed it too, and I’m not gonna have much time to go out and find anyone else till this is done.”

“Of course.” Frank’s face shifts slightly, his smile fixing in place while his eyes dart away. “Yeah. It’s really convenient. I mean…” He looks at Gerard. “Now everyone thinks I’m seeing you, I can hardly go on dates, can I?”

Gerard swallows carefully around the lump in his throat. “Yeah. So… We just do this when we want, right?”

“Yeah.” Frank smiles at him, and even though there’s something off about his expression, Gerard can’t place it. “Just what friends do for each other.”

“Cool.” Gerard stands up, suddenly shy and strangely awkward. “So, I’m gonna have a shower.”

“Voluntarily?” Frank asks, his voice arch, and like that the awkwardness drops away.

“I’ve gotta do my hair,” Gerard says, striking a ridiculous pose and trying not to notice the weight of Frank’s eyes on him. “Being a girl is hard work, you know.”

“Never doubted it for a second,” Frank says, and he smiles at Gerard before curling back under the covers. It’s a beautiful picture, and Gerard is tempted to climb under the sheets with him. They’ve done this now – they could make the most of it before it inevitably falls apart… There’s the sound of clanking from the beyond the door that suggests that Justin is awake, and Gerard sighs and resolutely turns his back on Frank.

At least his secret is still safe, he thinks as he climbs into the shower and lets the water run over him. For a moment back there he’d been convinced that it was all going to spill out – what he felt about Frank, how much last night had meant – the whole fucking mess, but he’d managed to say the right things and now he’s safe.

And of course Frank can’t date anyone else while Justin thinks he’s got a girlfriend. For someone as physical as Frank, that lack of connection must be driving him mad. Besides, Gerard prides himself on how he looks when he’s dressed as a woman – it’s small wonder that Frank’s feeling confused.

So really, sex is the least that Gerard can do to help. And he’s happy to do it – he really is, despite the voice at the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Mikey that’s asking if it’s worth the pain.

He dries himself off, avoiding his eyes in the mirror, and wraps a towel around his waist before going to find his outfit for brunch.

He’s only just finished drying his hair and doing his make up by the time Frank gets out of his shower, and Gerard frowns because he’d wanted to get dressed in private.

There’s no chance of that now, though, not without it being really obvious. After years of cramped backstage changing rooms that hardly deserve the name, nudity should be casual between them. It’s just that after last night, things feel different, and Gerard is having to force himself into any semblance of normality.

But if he doesn’t force himself, if he gives in to these feelings, Frank will realize that there’s something wrong, so instead of grabbing his outfit and running into the bathroom, he forces himself to drop his towel and wander casually over to where he’s laid his clothes out.

Gerard’s put a lot of thought into his outfits for this weekend. They needed to show Frank at his best, and honestly, shopping for this wasn’t really a chore. Still, he’s very aware of the weight of Frank’s eyes on him as he picks up the white lace panties he’s chosen and starts to climb into them.

“They okay?” he asks when he’s slid them up and arranged his cock so it sits comfortably in them. He turns, cocking his hip and running his hand through his hair, because he’s nothing if not a showman, looking at Frank from under his lashes and daring him to say anything about it. Anyway, he’s always hidden best in plain sight. 

Frank looks at him for a long second, then runs his tongue over his lips, as if they’re parched. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “They look amazing.”

Gerard hums, pleased, and turns back to the mirror to check they’re sitting right. “They’re not bad.” He surreptitiously rearranges his junk, sparing a momentary thought of longing for women who didn’t have panty-related crises whenever their fuckbuddies licked their lips.

“So…” Frank’s voice is muffled as he pulls on a shirt. “Do they work?”

“Work?”

“Do they…” Frank clears his throat. “Do they hold you in?”

He’s staring right at Gerard’s crotch, which does less than nothing for Gerard’s composure, and Gerard turns away again, shaking out the blue dress he had chosen carefully.

“Mostly.” He says, straightening out the hem of the skirt and not even looking towards Frank. “I just, uh, have to avoid getting, you know…”

“What?” Frank walks around Gerard and sits on the edge of the bed, next to the dress, holding out his right arm so Gerard can do up his cufflink for him.

“I have to avoid getting excited,” Gerard says, trying to concentrate on threading the cufflink correctly and not on the press of Frank’s suit pants against the bare skin of his leg.

“Uh huh,” Frank says, his face dangerously close to Gerard’s stomach and Gerard shivers, fighting against his instinct to take a step backwards. “So those panties won’t hold you in if you get hard?”

He sounds genuinely interested, but his eyes are dark and Gerard feels his cock twitch.

“No,” he says, his traitorous memory flashing back to last night and Frank’s wet mouth on the straining fabric of his panties.

“Oh,” Frank says. “Right.” He bites his lip and watches as Gerard picks up the dress and starts pulling it over his head. “You’re not going to wear stockings?”

“What?” Gerard tugs the light fabric down until the hem hangs mid-thigh, dangerously high, but not too daring given the conservative neckline. “With a dress like this? They wouldn’t work.”

Frank makes a humming noise and leans forward, reaching out so he can skim his fingers up the side of Gerard’s leg.

“You shaved your legs,” he says, and it isn’t a question, but Gerard nods anyway.

“Yeah.” His mouth is suddenly very dry, and he swallows. “So, uh, can you zip me up?”

“Sure.” Frank’s off the bed before Gerard can even process the movement, going to stand behind him, pressing close and running the pads of his fingers up Gerard’s spine before he pulls the zipper closed. “There.”

He doesn’t move, though. In fact he presses even closer and for a second Gerard would swear he can feel Frank’s lips brushing against the nape of his neck, disturbing the bottom of his hair where it’s pulled into a messy up-do.

It makes Gerard shiver, and he can’t – won’t – move away.

“You look beautiful,” Frank says, sounding horribly earnest. Gerard finally blinks and takes a step away.

“You don’t scrub up bad yourself,” he says and pulls at the tie that’s lying loose around Frank’s neck, frowning as he tries to remember how to tie it when it’s around someone else’s neck.

Frank nods, taking a breath like he’s pulling himself together, and Gerard understands the urge. The air between them feels charged, and Gerard’s not sure they haven’t fucked everything up already. 

“Okay,” Frank says at last, his fingers on Gerard’s waist like he doesn’t want to let him go. “Let’s do this.”

—

“You sure you’re okay driving?” Frank doesn’t sound concerned, but the car had lurched badly as they’d pulled away from the last set of lights, and Frank’s knuckles are white as he grips the door handle.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, grimacing because he hadn’t realized high heels would be this difficult to drive in. “Anyway, it gives me an excuse not to drink.”

“Oh.” Frank rubs his thumb over the inside of Gerard’s knee, staring out the window like he’s not even aware what his hand is doing. “That works.”

“Um.” Gerard swallows, trying desperately to think non-sexy, good driver-type thoughts. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” Frank says, finally looking at him. “I…” He looks at his hand and shrugs. “Your leg is smooth. Like… a girl. I’m not used to it.”

“Right,” Gerard says, grasping desperately for something he can say to follow _that_. “Um. You…”

“You shaved all the way up, didn’t you?” Frank asks, ignoring him, a look of devilment on his face. He runs his hand up the inside of Gerard’s thigh until his fingertips are skimming against where Gerard’s balls are straining against the lace of his panties.

“I shaved my whole leg,” Gerard says, proud when his voice doesn’t shake.

“Huh.” Frank shifts his hand until it’s cupping Gerard’s thigh. His knuckles are still pressed against Gerard’s balls, and if he doesn’t move them, Gerard’s going to have a bigger problem than struggling to drive in heels. “Cool.”

“You know me,” Gerard says, forcing fake cheer into every syllable. “I always go all-out for a role.”

“Yeah.” The callouses on Frank’s fingers are rough on the soft skin of Gerard’s thigh, and maybe Frank doesn’t notice that he’s tracing abstract patterns, but Gerard sure as hell does. “You always do.”

There's something in his tone, some note that Gerard can’t place, but Justin’s car in front of them is parking, and Gerard has to focus on driving rather than answering Frank. By the time they get out of the car, the moment’s passed. It’s too late, though, Gerard is undeniably _hard_.

Frank keeps his hand on Gerard though, possessive and guiding as he leads Gerard into the restaurant and smiles politely as Justin introduces them to the other investors. He keeps his handbag strategically placed in front of his groin.

They’re all men, all white, all older than Gerard and Frank by a good twenty years, and Gerard suspects that they all have opinions on feminism in general and women in the workplace in particular. He bites his lip though, because this is Frank’s event, not his, and besides, Frank hasn’t let him go yet, and it’s doing things to Gerard despite his very best intentions.

“Excuse me,” he says at last and gets up from the table, desperate for a bit of space from everything for a few seconds.

He’s barely gotten into the restroom, barely started running cold water over his pulse points to calm down, before the door is opening again and Frank is slipping into the room.

“Frank!” He spins around, scandalized. “This is the ladies’, you can’t…”

“Gee.” Frank clicks the lock on the door shut and takes a careful step forward, his hands held out as if he’s pacifying a stray animal he’s found. “You need to let me help you.”

“What do you mean _help me_?” Gerard asks and hopes that Frank can’t hear his voice shaking. Frank just smiles and gestures down at where Gerard’s dress isn’t sitting as flat as it might on a woman.

“They’re gonna notice,” he says. “If you go back in like that. They’ll guess.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gerard snaps. “I just need a moment, that’s all.”

“You just need someone to help you out,” Frank says, his voice sharp. “And I’m here. Gee…” He takes another step closer, as if he’s scared he’ll spook Gerard if he moves too quickly. “Let me.”

Gerard is sure he doesn’t nod, doesn't say yes, but Frank’s all up in his space anyway, face so close his lips are almost brushing Gerard’s as he talks.

“You said it was okay.” He puts his hands on Gerard’s waist. “You said we could do this if we were friends.” He leans closer and presses a hesitant kiss to the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “So, let me help you.”

There are a million reasons why Gerard should say no to this, but he can’t think of a single one of them as Frank slips his hand up under the hem of his skirt. Instead he reaches out, breathless with want, and takes hold of Frank’s upper arms.

“What…” he starts to ask, but Frank steps in and finally kisses him properly.

“Gee.” His voice is hoarse, and his hands are shaking slightly as he fumbles with Gerard’s panties. “I’m just gonna help, yeah? I’m not…” He takes a stuttering breath. “It doesn’t mean…”

He might say more, but Gerard doesn’t hear it. Gerard can’t hear _anything_ but the pounding blood in his ears and his own rough breaths as Frank shoves the panties down Gerard’s thighs and finally – _finally_ – wraps his fingers around Gerard’s cock.

Gerard can’t help the noise he makes, but Frank swallows it with a kiss, a kiss that threatens to steal the air from Gerard’s lungs as Frank starts jerking him off. It’s hard, fast, _relentless_ , and Gerard has no defenses against this.

Frank takes him apart, piece by piece, stroke by stroke, breath by breath, until Gerard is convulsing against him, caught between the sinks and Frank’s body, and that’s all that’s keeping him upright.

The only thing that stops everyone hearing when he comes is Frank’s mouth and lips and tongue.

He can’t catch his breath afterwards, not when Frank keeps jerking his cock for a fraction longer than is necessary, not when Frank finally takes a step backwards and brings his hand to his mouth, licking the come off it like a predatory, satisfied cat.

If Gerard could get hard again then, he would, but it’s maybe a good thing he can’t because Frank is stepping back into his space and pulling his panties back up, tucking Gerard back into them with oddly gentle hands, and pressing a last kiss to Gerard’s temple before he finally steps back.

“I’m gonna go out first,” he says, and he’s more subtle as he adjusts his pants, but Gerard can see how hard he is right now. “Give me a minute before you come back.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, slumping back against the sinks, grateful for the cold of the porcelain against his back. “Yeah, okay.”

Frank’s unlocked the door and is on the very verge of opening it before Gerard manages to get enough brainpower back to process this.

“Wait,” he says, and Frank turns back towards him, his cheeks pink and his eyes wide and hopeful. “I…”

He trails off, not sure what to say. _Thank you_ is wrong, even though Gerard is grateful; _I love you_ is stupid – too honest, too big, exactly the sort of shit that will frighten Frank away forever.

“Can I do anything for you?” he asks at last and Frank’s face does something complicated as he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, but he doesn't look mad at Gerard, isn’t opening the door and running away. “I’m good.”

He’s gone before Gerard can answer, and there’s nothing Gerard can do but to tidy up his hair as best he can and follow Frank back to the table.

—

_He’s only helping me out_ , Gerard thinks as he goes back to the table, walking with as much poise as he can manage in 5 inch heels when his knees are still orgasm-weak. _He’s my friend. It doesn’t mean anything that he gets off on me in a dress._

It helps him catch his breath, and he even manages to smile as he sits down next to Frank.

Frank barely spares him a glance, too deep in conversation with one of the investors to do any more, but as Gerard sits down, Frank’s slips his arm around his shoulders, as casually as if Gerard really was his girlfriend. It makes Gerard freeze for a fraction of a second; the grip is firm, possessive, and there is nothing Gerard wants more than to than to relax into it.

It’s not real though. It’s Frank putting on a show and Gerard remembers Mikey’s words, remembers he needs to take care of his heart, and he turns to Justin and starts to engage him in the sort of breezy small talk that he’d normally run a mile from, but now, with Frank feeling like a stranger next to him, and Gerard feeling almost like a stranger to himself, he almost welcomes it.

He can’t concentrate. Can’t hold on to the detail of what’s happening. It’s too much and it’s blurring, and Frank’s hold on him, his possessiveness, might just be part of the act, but it anchors Gerard, for now, and he can’t care about much else. It’s survival, it’s what he learnt when he got sober – you do what you need to now so you can hold on to what’s important to you. The trick is to know what’s important to you, and with Frank warm and laughing next to him, Gerard’s fairly sure he knows the answer to that.

It keeps him going, through the brunch and the interminable conversations about the agency and Frank’s plans for it, until at last they’re back in the car and free of scrutiny. And now Frank has his hand back on Gerard’s knee, like he doesn’t remember how awkwardly that ended last time. 

“Hey.” His voice is warm, and Gerard can’t help but smile as he glances towards him. “You think that went well?”

“Course it did,” Gerard says. “They loved you.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s mouth twists into a mirthless smile. “Guess so. Guess I’m irresistible.”

“Got to be,” Gerard says, not sure where this sudden shift in emotion has come from but sure that he needs Frank to smile again. “None of them could look away from you.”

“Really?” Frank sounds absurdly hopeful, but then he bites his lip, his fingers tightening on Gerard’s leg. “But you were talking to Justin for most of the meal.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t see you.” Gerard tightens his fingers on the steering wheel. “You…” He huffs out a breath. “You were brilliant, Frankie.”

Frank looks away, but out of the corner of his eye, Gerard can see that his cheeks are pink with pleasure. Maybe too pink, and as Gerard shifts his attention back to the road, and he tries to remember who drank what at the brunch, how many glasses of sparkling wine Frank had drunk himself.

Probably too many, he concludes as Frank pushes himself closer, until Gerard can feel him like a line of heat against his side as he drives. He’s gonna need to make sure that Frank’s home safe before he leaves.

So Gerard doesn’t comment about Frank’s hand on his knee, and doesn’t complain when Frank plasters himself to Gerard’s side as they climb the stairs. He’s like a particularly warm and affectionate octopus and it makes Gerard feel unspeakably fond.

Gerard fully intends to deposit him on his couch with a pillow and a glass of water, but Frank doesn’t give him the opportunity. He steers Gerard into his room and pushes him down onto the bed, toppling after him in a tangle of limbs.

“Hey,” he breathes against Gerard’s lips. “Hey, Gee…”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, breathless again despite himself. “Okay.”

He’s not sure what he’s agreeing to, but Frank has no such hesitations. He pushes himself down Gerard’s body, shoving his legs apart as he goes.

“I just…” He darts a look up at Gerard from under his lashes, then breaks off, biting a mark into the soft, white skin of Gerard’s inner thigh. He’s still talking, Gerard thinks, but he can only tell from the whisper of his breath and lips; he can’t hear a word.

“Frank,” he says, his voice cracking. “Frankie…” and Frank hides a sigh in Gerard’s skin and hooks his fingers under the waistband of Gerard’s panties.

“I got you,” Frank says, loud enough to be heard. “Just… let me do this.”

Gerard has no idea what Frank’s asking for, but his proximity, his heat, are doing terrible things to Gerard’s concentration, and he cants his hips up so that Frank can slide the panties down his legs, trying to pull them free, but leaving them caught around his ankle like he can’t wait to get his mouth on Gerard.

But he doesn’t do the obvious thing, though. He moves down, past Gerard’s cock, ignoring it apart from the wash of his warm breath, and Gerard’s about to pull himself together enough to complain, but then Frank’s pushing his legs further apart, and… _oh._

“Frank?” he asks, his voice tight. “Frank… what…”

“Please,” Frank says, looking up. “I just…” He tightens his fingers on Gerard’s thigh, until Gerard can feel his nails digging in. “You’re so pretty. And…” He dips his head, skims his tongue over Gerard’s hole again. “Just wanna go down on you.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s breath catches and he lies back on the bed, his legs spreading wider without any input from his brain. “I…”

He can’t say the words, can’t say anything around the lump in his throat, but he can feel the curve of Frank’s smile against his skin, before he licks again, and again… Until Gerard is slick and gasping and Frank has pushed his tongue inside him.

His cock is straining against his stomach, bouncing with each flick of Frank’s tongue, smearing wetness where it touches, and Gerard wants him to touch. He can’t ask, though, still can’t say a word, can only whine, high in his throat, needy and desperate until Frank pulls away, and looks up. Maybe Frank doesn’t even want to touch, maybe he just likes pretending Gerard is a girl.

“Going down on you.” He grins, wide and wicked. “You can touch yourself, if you want to.” He touches Gerard’s spit-slick hole with one fingertip. “Kinda like the idea of you fluttering around my tongue.”

He looks at Gerard, holding eye contact and pushes his finger past the tight ring of muscle, smiling when Gerard gasps.

“Yeah,” he says, not quite a question. “I thought you’d like that.”

He crooks his finger and Gerard can’t help it – he writhes on the bed, fucking himself down on Frank’s finger, rolling his hips in a vain attempt to get Frank to rub his prostate.

“Please,” he manages. “ _Please_ , Frank…”

“Patience, Gem,” Frank says, but he dips his head again and licks around the edge of his finger, teasing and too light, and Gerard can’t hold back anymore. He reaches down and grabs hold of his cock, jerking it too tight and too hard while Frank finally takes pity and starts to rub on Gerard’s prostate in earnest.

There’s something about it, something filthy and perfect, and Gerard knows he should slow down or hold back, but he can’t. He comes hard, pushing down on Frank’s hand and tongue while he convulses on the bed.

It takes a moment to get his breath back, but he wants to touch Frank, to make him come too, so he pushes himself up the bed, off Frank’s fingers, brushing his sweat-damp hair back off his forehead.

“Hey,” he manages before he looks at Frank properly and all his words desert him.

Frank’s still looking at him, his eyes wide and dark, his cheeks pink, but he’s rolling his hips like…

“Jesus.” Gerard reaches out, touches Frank’s cheek, hesitant and awed. “Are you rubbing yourself against the bed?”

Frank’s eyes fall closed, his cheeks flaming and his hips jerking helplessly and Gerard can’t breathe because Frank can’t be coming like this, can be this turned on just from going down on him. Except he is, and he does, and the look on his face takes Gerard’s breath away.

He pets Frank’s face as he comes down, not sure what he should do or say, not sure if there’s anything he _can_ , just knowing he has to try.

“You okay?” he asks the top of Frank’s head at last, and Frank looks up, grimacing.

“Sticky.” He pulls himself off the bed, wincing as the damp fabric of his pants settles against him. “I should have a shower.” He takes a step backwards, away from Gerard, then pauses, biting his lip. “So, you gonna come around tomorrow? You can watch a movie while I make some matches.”

_He doesn’t want me around_ , Gerard realizes with a rush of horror, and he pushes himself off the other side of the bed, letting his panties drop onto the floor unnoticed.

“Sure.” He grins at Frank, trying to keep his tone bright and his smile genuine. “I should…” He hesitates, wishing this wasn’t so awkward, wishing he didn’t feel so much. “I need to get some sleep.”

“Oh.” Frank smiles, too wide and bright. “Cool. So… Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Gerard raises a hand in a half-hearted salute. “You, um. Go have your shower. I’ll… uh. Let myself out, okay?”

“Sure,” Frank says, but he curls up to a pillow and watches Gerard leave anyway, and Gerard feels his eyes on him, long after he’s left the apartment and gotten into the car.

—

“You what?” Mikey asks, his voice dangerously calm, and Gerard really wishes he’d changed out of his dress before he’d walked into his apartment. “Gerard, are you _insane_?”

“Hey.” Ray put his hand on Mikey’s arm, but even he looks worried when he looks at Gerard. “I’m sure Gee’s got his reasons for this.”

“Yeah.” Mikey shrugs out of Ray’s grip and throws himself onto the sofa, every inch the sulky teenager he stopped being years ago. “Cuz he’s insane.”

“I’m not,” Gerard says, slightly outraged, and Mikey turns in his seat until he can see Gerard and slowly looks him up and down, taking in his ruined hair and makeup, his stained dress, his stupid, golden too-high heels.

“Really,” he says, his voice completely flat. 

Gerard turns away, his cheeks red. “It’s fine,” he says, mostly to the wall, because that’s the only thing he can look at. “I’m not doing anything stupid, Mikes.”

Mikey snorts, but it’s Ray who puts his hand carefully on Gerard’s arm.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Cuz we know how you feel, Gee, and…”

The words are like being dashed with cold water, and Gerard takes a step backwards, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I…” he starts, but Ray shakes his head, infinitely patient.

“Bullshit.” He shakes his head at Gerard. “You _do_ and you know you do. And so do I, and so does Mikey.”

“Does Frank?” The words slip out without Gerard’s permission, but he relaxes slightly when Ray shakes his head.

“I don’t think so,” Ray says and then winces as Mikey climbs off the sofa and hooks his bony chin over Ray’s shoulder.

“He’s got his head as far up his ass as you do,” Mikey says, scowling when Ray uses the opportunity to tread on his toes. “What? I’m just telling it like it is.”

‘Whatever,” Gerard says, barely bothering to notice anything beyond the fact that Frank still doesn't know his secret. “Point is, I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t.”

“And that’s why you’re coming home smelling like hours of bad decisions,” Mikey says, but he’s worried, Gerard can see that now, so he closes the gap between them, pulling both of them into a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says, more a prayer than a promise at this stage. “I’m gonna be okay. This isn’t going to hurt me. You’ll see.”

He doesn’t think anyone believes him – not Mikey, not Ray… not him if he’s being honest – but they don’t argue, and for now he’ll take what he can get and he relaxes into their arms and tries to forget his fears about everything else.

—

It’s all horribly and painfully brought back to him when he walks into Frank’s apartment late the next afternoon.

He’d managed to avoid Ray and Mikey, and used the time to stare into space instead, his mind carefully blank until he could feasibly drive over to Frank’s without seeming needy.

He uses his key to let himself in as usual, not thinking twice about it. It’s only when he hears Mikey and Frank’s voices, tense and just this edge of raised, that he stops in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank’s saying, but there’s an edge to his tone and Gerard doesn’t quite believe his protestation of innocence. “Gee’s just helping me out, Mikey.”

“Really?” Mikey sounds the special kind of bored that always makes Gerard squirm, guilty even if he hasn’t done anything. “And you don’t think this has gotten out of hand?”

Frank makes a snorting noise, then he stops and pauses. “Has he said anything?” he asks, and he actually sound worried. Gerard holds his breath, waiting to see what Mikey’s going to say.

“Course not,” Mikey says at last, and Gerard would give anything to be able to see his face right now. “But he doesn't have to, Frank. I _know you two_.” There’s an edge to his voice and Gerard bites his lip, terrified that Mikey’s going to spill his secret.

“It’ll be fine,” Frank says his voice tight. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not stupid.”

“You’re not,” Mikey says carefully. “But when feelings are involved…”

“There are no feelings,” Frank snaps, cutting him off mid-sentence. “We’re just _friends_ , Mikey. As if I’ve got a thing for your brother.”

He sounds genuinely angry, and Gerard turns away, sliding the door open as silently as he can, his heart turned to stone in his chest.

He can faintly hear Mikey behind him as he closes the door, telling Frank that if he hurts Gerard then… but he’s down the stairs before Mikey get to the end of the sentence.

_Too late_ he thinks, but he doesn’t really mean it. It isn’t Frank who’s hurt him here, he’s hurt himself. And he deserves it for messing with Frank like this. Gerard’s known how he felt for ages – he should never have used this opportunity to get close to Frank. It’s like theft. It’s not fair.

He manages to regain his composure over a cup of coffee in a too busy, too noisy Starbucks. Frank’s just his friend, he’s paying back the favor that Gerard’s doing him. He doesn’t mean anything by it. The sex is… just a thing. Maybe Frank feels like he owes Gerard something, or it’s just a question of availability, or maybe he’s just able to forget who he’s fucking when Gerard’s dressed as a girl.

By the time his coffee’s finished he’s back in control of himself, even if his spirits are in his boots, and he drives back to Frank’s apartment with a bleak determination.

At least Mikey’s gone – Gerard checks the parking lot carefully, but there’s no sign of his car. He makes more noise than is strictly necessary climbing the stairs and opening the door.

He shouldn’t have bothered though; Frank barely looks up from his laptop when Gerard comes in. His expression is grim, like there’s something on the screen that’s annoying him.

“Hey.” Gerard sits down opposite him, crossing his legs automatically, then uncrossing them when he remembers he’s being himself right now. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Frank still isn’t looking at him. “I just let some of the cases get behind. You know, while we were…” He looks up finally and his cheeks go pink. “Um, trying to get the funding for the business.”

“Oh.” Gerard shuffles his feet. “So, I guess you’d be too busy to help me out then?”

“Of course not,” Frank says, so quickly Gerard guesses it’s on autopilot. “Though, um, there’s something I really need to talk to you about…”

Gerard freezes, because the last thing he wants right now is to talk about what Mikey said, so he waves his hand in what he hopes is a vaguely conciliatory manner and leans forward.

“I want you to make a match for me,” he says, because it’s the first thing he can think to say.

Frank’s face goes suddenly and completely blank. “A match?” he says at last. Gerard nods, because he’s committed now.

“You said you would, back at the start.” Gerard smiles encouragingly, trying to hide his relief, because there’s _no way_ Frank will guess how he feels now. “I mean… if that’s still okay.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s suddenly completely absorbed in his laptop again. “If that’s what you want.”

His mouth is set into a thin line and Gerard suddenly realizes what the problem is.

“I’ll still date you,” he says. “You know, for Justin and the investors. This isn’t… um.” He shrugs. “I want you to match me as a man, not as her.”

“Thanks,” Frank says, but his voice is still tight. “Appreciate that.”

“Cool,” Gerard says, just wanting everything to go back to being easy between them. “Cuz I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, you know? I guess it just showed me that I needed someone of my own. To stop me being lonely.”

He looks up from examining his nails to find Frank looking at him, a peculiar look on his face.

“Yeah,” Frank says. “I understand that. Don’t worry.” He smiles, small and sincere. “I’ll find you someone.”

“Frank.” Gerard gets up and hugs him and pretends it isn’t awkward as fuck. “Thank you. I…”

“Yeah.” Frank is still in his arms for a moment, then he wraps his arms around Gerard and hugs him, full-bodied and brutal. “Now fuck off, would you? I need to make some matches for you and you shouldn’t be around for that.”

“You’re the best,” Gerard says and even though Frank looks away, Gerard can tell that he’s pleased. “D’you want to ask me questions and things?”

Frank looks back up at him, raising one eyebrow eloquently until Gerard backs down and shuffles his feet.

“I’ll just go then,” he says, aware of the warmth of Frank’s scrutiny. “Do we… um… have any dates? You know. With Justin?”

“Not for a few days,” Frank says. “Got time to send you on a proper date or two first.”

“Cool,” Gerard says, with a touch too much relief for it not to be awkward. “Just, uh, let me know, okay?”

“Yeah.” Frank nods, but Gerard can’t read his expression. “I’ll call you later.”

—

He’s as good as his word, and he calls after the reality of the situation has set in, but before Gerard’s had the chance to work himself into a frenzy.

“Got a date for you,” Frank says, the phone distorting his voice until it sounds distant and cold. “It’s a show. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Gerard can’t keep the shock from his voice, because this was a distraction technique – he didn't really think he’d actually have to go on a date.

“Yeah.” Frank sounds wary. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Gerard says, because he has no option but to say that. Frank makes a pleased noise.

“Cool. Gonna email you the details, and…” He pauses and Gerard waits, listening to him breathe. “Look… Good luck, okay?” He sounds almost angry as he says it, and Gerard nods, not able to say anything. “I hope it goes well.”

It doesn’t. It _really_ doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, doing his best to mop the beer off her top before it soaks all the way through, trying not to breathe in so he has to smell it. “I’m not normally clumsy, just…”

“Yeah.” She stares at him, her voice tight with annoyance. She’s beautiful – tall and statuesque and she dances like a fucking Amazon in the pit, but she’s not… Well. She’s not the person Gerard wants to be here with and he’s not done a great job hiding that.

“I’ll get you another drink,” Gerard says, and she nods, but by the time he comes back she’s dancing with someone else, her head thrown back, laughing with enjoyment like she hasn’t all night with him, so he puts the beer down and slips away, relaxing for the first time as the cold night air hits his face.

He can’t face calling Frank, can face up to his failure, but he’s not altogether surprised when it’s Frank’s ringtone that wakes him up in the morning.

“What,” Frank asks, not bothering with pleasantries. “Did you do?”

“Nothing!” Gerard winces at how defensive he sounds. “I just… It didn’t work out.”

Frank sighs. “Do you know how many refunds I’ve had to give since I started?” he asks. “None. Until now.”

“Oh god.” Gerard sits up in bed. “She didn’t.”

“She did. _And_ I had to pay for her shirt to be dry cleaned.”

“I am so sorry.” Gerard slumps back on the bed, his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Of course you didn’t.” Frank sounds somewhere between resigned and affectionate. “I swear, for someone who owns the stage…”

“Yeah.” Gerard sighs. “Two left feet.”

Frank laughs. “Anyway,” he says, his voice a bit more like his usual self. “The important thing is to get right back on that horse.”

“Horse?”

“The dating horse.”

“Ah.” Gerard starts twitching his bedspread straight, like he’s been possessed by Martha Stewart. “You want me to go on another date?”

“You can’t let one bad experience ruin everything,” Frank says. “And I think I worked out where I went wrong with the last match.”

“Oh.” Gerard tries to summon up some excitement – any emotion really that will replace this curious, crushing sense of rejection in his chest. “Yeah. That’d be… great.”

“Excellent.” Frank clearly can’t recognize sarcasm when he hears it, and launches into the details of the date and by the time Gerard’s disentangled himself from the bedding, found a pen, found a working pen, uncovered some paper, and written them down he’s forgotten that he should probably tell Frank he doesn’t want another date.

Which is why he turns up at a local hipster coffee place on time and wearing clean jeans. He can’t let Frank down again, after all.

And to be fair, the guy, when he shows up, is gorgeous, all dark hair and tattoos and a smile that could make Gerard’s knees weak. Okay, he’s a bit tall, but you can’t have everything so Gerard squares his shoulders and pastes a smile on his face and things… don’t seem so bad.

“So, after we’d gotten out of Tibet, we went back to Nepal, and it was magical, dude. The energy there was unbelievable. I mean, you hear a lot about cultural appropriation from those bores on Facebook, but I think we taught them a new way of looking at Buddhism, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, trying desperately to think of a way he can respond to this. “I…”

“It was just like the time we went on pilgrimage to the sacred sites of Scotland, and there were these weird British pagan types who thought we shouldn’t be doing Eastern rituals at their stones? But like I said to them…”

He keeps talking, animated and intense and Gerard sits back, wondering how long it will take until he notices Gerard isn’t saying anything.

He doesn’t – not through the entirety of his monologue about Buddhism (good!), capitalism (bad!), and the state of politics today (probably a coverup!). It’s oddly fascinating, and Gerard is running a bet with himself about how long it will go on for when the barista turns the main lights off and starts pointedly sweeping up.

“Wow.” The guy blinks at Gerard once the barista’s begun outright glaring at them, wide and guileless. “I can’t believe how fast this evening went.”

“Yeah.” Gerard smiles politely and waits until the guy’s back is turned before leaving a really fucking generous tip on the table. “It was quite something.”

He follows the guy out of the shop, raising his hand to the barista as he goes, which is why he doesn’t notice that the guy has stopped and turned, and which is why he walks right into his arms.

“I had a great evening,” the guy says, and he is far too close and far too intent looking for Gerard’s comfort, but the door behind him is closed and there’s nowhere for him to go. “You’re fascinating.”

“Thanks,” Gerard stammers, not sure why the guy thinks that since he barely spoke a dozen words all night.

“I just feel like we connected.” The guy looks up from under his lashes. “We could be something special together.”

_He really believes it,_ Gerard thinks. _He has_ no idea _what a shit evening I’ve had. He really is that vacuous and self-centred._

“That’s kind,” he says, putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder and pressing hard enough to give himself a couple of inches of breathing space. “But I really don’t think…”

“Hey.” The guy takes his wrist in a grip just shy of painful. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too, cuz I’m not going to believe you.”

“Really?” Gerard asks, his voice icy and his temper starting to rise. “What do you…”

“Hi? Guys?” There’s a voice behind them and Gerard uses the moment of distraction to pull himself free. It’s the barista from earlier, without his apron now, but still a sight for sore eyes. “I don’t want to interrupt you, but I think you left your scarf on your seat and I wanted you to have it before I locked up.”

He gestures back to the table they’d been sitting at, and a scarf which certainly isn’t Gerard’s, draped over the back of a chair.

“Oh, thanks,” Gerard says, cheerfully perjuring himself if it means he can escape the guy he’s with. “My brother bought me that. I’d hate to lose it.”

“You want to come in and get it?” the barista asks, and the guy growls like an affronted animal. “If your friend doesn’t mind.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Gerard says, kissing goodbye to all traces of honestly. “He was just leaving.” He turns and favors the guy with a grin he’s honed from years of interviews with journalists he’d rather see dead. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s been an experience.”

“But…” the guy starts, and Gerard shakes his head.

“Don’t bother waiting around. It’s cold and I need to get home. Early start tomorrow, and all that.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a reply; he just turns and follows the barista into the shop, sagging slightly with relief when the barista locks the door behind them.

“Thanks,” he says after the barista locks the door behind them. “You saved me. I mean, that isn’t even my scarf.”

“Yeah.” The barista grins at him. “It’s mine. I just thought you might need the excuse.”

“That obvious?”

“Eh.” The barista shrugs, turning away and grabbing a broom from where it’s leaning on one of the tables before heading back to the counter with it. “You get used to seeing awkward dates in this line of work.”

“You rescue them all?” Gerard asks, picking up the scarf and folding it carefully.

“Ha.” The barista pulls out a jacket from behind the counter. “Not likely. Just… you looked like you really didn't want to be there.”

“I didn’t. I owe you one, dude.” Gerard pauses then holds out his hand. “My name’s Gerard.”

“Les,” the barista says, shaking his hand in the sort of comfortably firm handshake that Gerard’s come to appreciate – assertive enough, but not trying to prove anything. “You want to come out the back with me?”

It takes Gerard a second to understand why Les is asking him that, and when he does, he grins.

“Sure,” he says. “You think of everything.”

“Douches like that hang around.” Les shrugs and takes his scarf when Gerard holds it out. “No point making it easy for him.”

It’s an incredibly thoughtful gesture, but Les doesn’t make anything out of it. He keeps up a steady stream of conversation as he leads Gerard out and locks up, interspersing anecdotes about the bad dates he’s seen with questions that get Gerard talking more about himself than he has all evening until they’re stood in front of the last cars in the parking lot.

“So,” Les says, looking uncertain for the first time this evening. “You want to get a drink?”

_Oh_ , Gerard thinks, pleased, and he smiles, slightly shamefaced at Les.

“I don’t drink,” he says. “But I owe you a beer, and…” He scuffs the toes of his shoe against the concrete of the lot. “I’d like that.”

It turns out there’s a bar just around the corner that manages the rare balance of having good beer and good atmosphere without being so loud that you can’t have a conversation, and Gerard only has the smallest pang of regret that he can’t try the beer as well.

Instead he drinks his soda and swaps increasingly unbelievable stories with Les, until they’re both laughing hard enough that tears are running down their cheeks.

“Why did you go on the date?” Les asks at last. “Cuz, no offence, but you looked like you didn’t want to be there from the start.”

“Accurate,” Gerard says. “But my friend runs a dating agency and he set me up and…” He holds out his hands, trying to demonstrate the pointlessness of arguing with Frank when he has his mind set on something.

Les grins. “We all have a friend like that.”

“You have no idea.” Gerard shakes his head. “I swear, if I could say no to his crazy ideas…”

“Your life would be a hell of a lot more boring?” Les suggests and smiles sympathetically at the look on Gerard’s face. “C’mon, dude. You wouldn’t go along with it if it wasn’t fun.”

“Not this,” Gerard says with feeling. “Well… not that anyway.” He shrugs. “This is much better.”

“Glad to hear it,” Les says, and he slides his arm around Gerard’s shoulder.

It makes Gerard’s breath catch, but they’re tucked into a booth in the back corner here, it’s fairly private, and Les moves slowly, telegraphing his intent and giving Gerard enough time to pull away.

He doesn’t.

He leans in, meets Les halfway, and brings his hand up to cup the back of Les’s head.

It’s… good. As kisses go, Gerard’s had worse, but there’s something missing, and as they pull apart he can see from the look in Les’s eyes that he felt it too.

It’s awkward, and for a second Gerard considers abandoning his pride and making a run for it, but then Les grins and leans back in his seat, picking up his beer again.

“No spark,” he says, shaking his head. “Shame. I thought you’d be fun.”

“What can I say?” Gerard’s voice is hoarse, and he finishes his soda as if that will help. “I guess my feelings are all caught up already.”

“Your friend?” Les asks, but he looks sympathetic rather than angry, and Gerard nods.

“I just…” He stops, unable to find the words, and takes a breath and Les puts his fingers back on Gerard’s wrist.

“Tell me,” he says, and Gerard knows he shouldn’t – but finding an impartial person to talk to is difficult and Gerard needs to talk.

“We’ve been friends for years,” Gerard says, his heart in his mouth, because this is the first time he’s admitted this to someone who didn’t already know. “There’s no one closer to me. And…” He shrugs. “You know how it goes. You live with someone for long enough, you forget how to live without them.”

“That’s not love though,” Les says, his forehead crinkling in a frown.

“No,” Gerard says like the words are being wrung out of him. “Love’s something different. Something…” He pauses, hunting for the words that will sum up how he feels about Frank. “Something worse? Scarier? Better?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Hey.” Les smiles at him. “You must know something. You know how you feel after all.”

“It’s just…” Gerard looks down at his hands. “You work with someone – you live with someone for that long and… you’re best friends with them. They know everything about you.” He looks up at Les, not sure what he wants to see. “You can’t risk that for the sake of a quick fuck.”

“Yeah.” Les grins. “But you’ve had sex, right? You know, already?”

“Yeah.” Gerard can feel his cheeks get warm. “I guess we have. But… he didn’t know it was me. He could deny all of it if he wanted.” He shrugs, not sure what the bitter taste in his mouth is. “It wasn’t _me_.”

“So.” Les bumps his knuckles against the back of Gerard’s hand. “Make sure he knows it’s you this time.”

It’s what Gerard wanted to hear, but he still shakes his head, torn between hope and fear.

“I can’t,” he says. “What about our friendship? What about…”

“Those sound like excuses to me.” Les smiles at him. “Love doesn’t just work one way, Gerard. If you feel this way about him then…”

_No_ Gerard wants to say. _He can’t… I can’t_. He doesn’t say that though. Instead he says, “what should I do?”

“Go get him,” Les says, and his smile is as warm as his hand, and Gerard nods.

—

By the time Gerard gets to Frank’s apartment, he’s half drunk on terror.

“Hey.” Frank is warm, soft, dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt that cries out to be touched. “How did the date go?

“Shit. Dude.” Gerard brushes past him, into the apartment heading straight for Frank’s kitchen and the coffee he can smell there. “What made you think you could match people up?”

“Uh.” Frank moves to one side and watches him, half confused and half offended. “Because I’m good at it?”

“Yeah.” Gerard pauses, coffee pot in hand. “Didn’t manage to find me my soulmate though, did you?”

“Oh.” There’s a moment where something complex and unreadable passes across Frank’s face then he starts to root through a cupboard until he finds some cookies. “I’m sorry?”

He sounds completely sincere, and if Gerard didn’t know him he might even believe it. But there’s something in his eyes that puts a lie to it, and Gerard feels pleasure coil low in his gut.

“Yeah,” he says. “I bet you are. I mean… It ruins your perfect record, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Frank says, but his cheeks are pinker than normal and he’s scuffing his feet in an altogether suspicious manner.

“It not like you’d do something to ruin that,” Gerard says, carefully. “You wouldn’t send me on unsuitable dates on purpose, would you?”

“Of course not,” Frank says, but he’s not looking at Gerard.

“Cool.” Gerard grins at Frank, wide and warm and completely fake. “So you won’t mind setting me up on another date then?”

“I know just the person,” Frank says, matching Gerard smile for smile. “When would you like to do it?”

It’s so _Frank_ – daring the world, daring Gerard to make something of it – and Gerard can’t deal with this anymore.

He puts the coffee pot down very deliberately back down, and walks over to Frank, not stopping until he’s close enough that he can feel the heat of Frank’s body through his clothes.

“How about now?” he asks, and he reaches out, cups Frank’s face in his hands and kisses him.

It’s nothing like the kiss earlier; Gerard might have instigated this, but Frank steals the air from his lungs.  
It’s like they kiss on autopilot now, familiarity from stage kisses bleeding into the recent kisses they’ve shared until Gerard is breathless and dizzy with it.

Still, he can feel the exact moment that Frank realizes what they’re doing and starts to pull away, but instead of letting Frank go, Gerard follows him, moving until he has Frank caged between his desk and his body, tangling one of his hands in Frank’s hair.

Frank makes a small, shocked noise, but to Gerard’s mingled surprise and relief he doesn’t fight him. In fact he seems to relax, lets Gerard take control while he moulds his body to Gerard’s and sighs into the kiss.

“What do you…?” he asks when they pull apart to breathe, but Gerard kisses him again until he forgets the question, until he forgets everything and starts rubbing against Gerard like a cat in heat.

It’s easy then to pull Frank’s clothes off, to pin him in place with hands on his hips and to kneel at his feet.

“I wanna….” Gerard starts, but he can’t find the words and even though Frank makes a strange, strangled noise that sounds like surprise, he nods when Gerard looks at him, and keeps watching with wide, almost disbelieving eyes as Gerard sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, taking this slow, doing all the things he’s wanted to and all the things that Frank has brushed aside over the last two weeks.

He expects Frank to hold his hair, to guide him, but he doesn’t. He stands with his fingers gripping the desk like he’s afraid to let go, watching Gerard like he can’t believe this is happening. Maybe it’s too much, Gerard thinks. Maybe what they’ve been doing for the past few weeks lives in its own little box and isn’t real. Maybe Gerard is ruining everything by kneeling here in jeans and a t-shirt, by not dressing up as Frank’s girlfriend first.

But Frank isn’t pushing him away, and he’s hard, and Gerard _wants_ , so he makes the most of this, sucks Frank like this is the only chance he’ll get, until Frank’s cock swells in his mouth and Frank says “ _Gerard_ ” like a warning, and Gerard groans around him, sinking his head down as far as he can and losing himself in the taste and feel of Frank.

Frank slumps against the desk after, huffing out a laugh and scrubbing his hand over his face, but Gerard isn’t done with him yet – not by a long way. He takes hold of Frank’s wrists and pulls him towards the bedroom, not letting go until he’s pushed Frank onto the bed and arranged his limbs so he’s splayed out for Gerard to see.

“You going to move if I let you go?” Gerard asks, his hands on Frank’s ankles holding his legs apart. “Cuz I want to take my clothes off.”

Frank’s gaze darts down Gerard’s body, but he just bites his lip and shakes his head, and when Gerard gets off the bed he stays almost perfectly still, only moving his head so he can watch as Gerard strips in a graceless rush that leaves his clothes piled, haphazard, on the floor.

It’s only when Gerard’s naked that he realizes he’s missed certain important steps in his forward planning, and he hesitates, uncertain. Frank notices, of course, and something finally relaxes in his expression, and he grins, Gerard’s friend again, as the strange tension between them starts to ease.

“Bedside table,” he says. “If you’re looking for lube.” He flexes on the bed, hands and feet fixed in place like they’re pinned, like he’s testing invisible restraints. “I’d get it for you, except you told me not to move.”

“Like you ever do what I tell you to,” Gerard says, something fond and possessive stirring in his chest, and he digs through the drawer to the sound of Frank’s laughter. There is lube, Frank was right about that at least, but it’s buried under a drift of notebooks and pens and guitar picks and socks which makes searching feel more invasive, more intimate than Gerard was expecting.

“I can be good,” Frank says when Gerard turns, holding the lube triumphantly in his hands. “If it’s worth it.”

“Yeah?” Gerard climbs onto the bed, settling himself between Frank’s legs and flicking the bottle open with his thumb. “You think this is going to be worth it?”

“Yes,” Frank says, and holds Gerard’s gaze as Gerard reaches out and runs his slicked-up fingers across the rim of Frank’s ass.

“Good,” Gerard says, taking hold of Frank’s knee with his free hand and using it to steady himself as he pushes a finger into Frank and crooks it until Frank arches off the bed, a string of unrepeatable syllables spilling from his lips.

They’re addictive, the noises Frank makes. Gerard finds himself trying to play him like an instrument, wringing the sweetest sounds he can from the twist of his wrist or the splay of his fingers, until Frank is sweat covered and desperate, his cock heavy and hard against his belly.

“Please,” Frank says. “Gee, _please_ …”

“What?” Gerard asks, still three fingers deep in him. “What d’you want, Frankie?”

“Need you to fuck me,” Frank says, breathless, pushing himself down on Gerard’s hand. “Want you in me.”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, trying to ignore how his own cock jumps at the words. “I can do that.”

Still, he twists his fingers again, just for the pleasure of hearing Frank swear, before he pulls them free with a filthy-slick noise.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks, and Frank shakes his head.

“Don’t need them.” He looks up at Gerard, a study in bad decisions and unfettered desire. “Haven’t used them before, have we?”

Gerard shakes his head, doesn’t say _but that was different_ , doesn’t say _I wasn’t fucking you_. Instead he slicks himself up with shaking hands and he has one of Frank’s legs over his shoulder before he even stops to think.

“Is this okay?” he manages to ask, the head of his cock pressing against the slick warmth of Frank’s ass, and Frank honest-to-god _whines_.

“Yes!” Frank is straining and writhing under him, trying to press himself onto Gerard’s cock. Gerard can’t keep fighting this.

He leans forward and takes hold of Frank’s wrists, pressing them into the bed and finally pushing into Frank.

It’s hot and tight and Frank is a filthy mess of slick and Gerard makes himself wait, the head of his cock spreading Frank wide, to take a few deep, desperate breaths.

“You like that?” he asks at last, when he’s fairly sure he can cope with this, when it won’t just be over pathetically quickly, and Frank makes a noise that’s part profanity, part sob.

“Please.” Frank’s voice is wrecked. “You need to fuck me. I need…” He breaks off and turns his head so he can mouth at Gerard’s arm, his eyes scrunched shut like he might not want to be here, and… no. Gerard’s not accepting that.

“Look at me,” he growls as he starts to press forward. “Look at me, Frankie, or this stops now.”

“No!” Frank’s eyes are wide and desperate now. “Don’t stop. Please, Gee. Want you. Want _this_.”

It’s what Gerard needs to hear and he finally slides all the way home, until he’s balls-deep in Frank and can feel the frantic thrum of his heart where they’re pressed together.

“You sure?” Gerard rolls his hips and watches Frank’s eyes roll back in his head. “You sure you wouldn’t prefer…”

He’s not sure what he’d ask, what answer he wants, and he doesn't get the chance to find out because it’s Frank who’s growling now, pressing down and pushing up until he’s flipped them over and is sitting on Gerard’s cock as he pins Gerard to the bed.

“I know what I want,” he says, and Gerard can’t tell if the words sound more like a threat or a promise.

“I just…” Gerard starts, but Frank cuts him off with a kiss, starting to fuck himself on Gerard’s cock in earnest.

“You what? You wanted to check I want your cock? I want _you_?” He looks almost angry, but he’s hot and tight around Gerard and his cock is leaking pre-come onto Gerard’s belly. “Does this answer you?”

He doesn’t give Gerard a chance to reply, though. He leans forward and kisses the air from Gerard’s lungs, fucking himself down over and over like he’s desperate for it, desperate to be filled.

It’s too much for Gerard to fight, and frankly he doesn’t even want to. He strains under Frank, biting kisses into any inch of skin he can get his mouth on, angling his hips so that Frank tightens around him reflexively, swearing under his breath, his hands still firm around Gerard’s wrists.

“Please.” It’s Gerard’s turn to beg now, and he can’t even care. “Please, Frank…”

“What?” Frank’s voice is rough, but the kiss he presses to the corner of Gerard’s mouth is sweet as honey. “What do you need?”

“Want to touch you,” Gerard says, and Frank’s eyes flutter closed for a second before he nods and lets go of one of Gerard’s wrists.

Gerard doesn’t waste any time, not now. He runs his fingers up the length of Frank’s cock, once, twice, before he takes hold of it in a too-loose grip and starts jacking Frank off in time with the movements of Frank’s hips.

The effect is electric, and Frank clenches hard around Gerard, rolling his hips over and over as he comes and the sight of it, the pressure of Frank around him is too much for Gerard. He comes harder than he thinks he ever has, rutting into Frank as Frank falls, warm and pliant against his chest, making little broken noises at the force of Gerard’s thrusts.

They collapse against each other, sweaty and come-covered and disgusting, but too tired, too satisfied to move.

It’s easy now to drift off, surrounded by the scent and feel of Frank, and Gerard is almost asleep when Frank runs his fingers down his spine.

There’s a second when Gerard thinks Frank might say something, but instead he sighs and kisses the top of Gerard’s head. Gerard presses close to him, pretending to be asleep because he’s a coward, and it isn’t long before that’s true.

—

He has a vague plan, concocted in the middle of the night, that he’ll sneak out in the morning, but things (mostly lying awake, pinned in place by a sleeping Frank) conspire so that he oversleeps and by the time he manages to open his eyes, Frank is blinking awake next to him.

“Hey,” Frank says, sleepy and satisfied sounding, before Gerard’s managed to do more than process the warm weight of Frank in his arms. “You ready for today?”

“Today?” Gerard searches his memory, but his recall is blunted by lack of coffee and Frank’s proximity.

“We’re meeting with Justin,” Frank says slowly, far too used to Gerard’s caffeine requirements to be surprised. “He’s going to let us know what the decision is about funding.”

“Oh.” Gerard sits up and drags his hand through his hair. “Right. But I…”

“Didn’t bring an outfit?” Frank stretches, scratching at the come that’s dried on his belly in a move that should be gross and not kinda hot. “S’okay. I got you covered.”

“What?” Gerard asks, but Frank just shrugs and looks away, and Gerard, who knows what fighting with Frank is like and when to just cut his losses, heads for the shower.

When he gets back, Frank is conspicuous by his absence, but he’s set out clothes on the bed.

It’s one of Frank’s own t-shirts, Gerard sees with a smile, a butter-soft leather jacket that makes Gerard’s mouth slightly dry with desire, and… a short, pleated skirt.

Gerard picks it up and holds it up, trying to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest.

It’s what he was expecting, he guesses. Things were said last night, but it was just sex. None of it meant anything. He never really thought anything else. Never expected anything better.

“Is it okay?” Frank asks in a small voice from behind him, and Gerard makes sure he pastes a huge, fake smile on before he turns around.

“Of course!” He gestures to the clothes on the bed. “I love them. Just…”

“What?” Frank asks, his brows snapping together.

“I’m going to need some underwear and some shoes.”

“Fuck.” Frank scowls at the bed. “I knew I’d forget something.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Gerard says, shrugging. “We can stop at my place on the way there, right?”

“Yeah,” Frank says. “I guess.”

—

The easiest way to manage it is for Gerard to dress in the outfit before they leave.

It fits, and if Gerard’s thinking about it dispassionately, it looks cute. When it’s on, it makes Gerard look like the sort of girl Frank tends to go for, and _that_ makes Gerard’s stomach tie itself into knots.

But when Frank asks if he likes it in a small, tight voice, he grins and nods.

“It’s a different look,” he says and Frank nods.

“You look good though.”

Gerard’s mouth twists involuntarily and looks away, uncomfortable aware of how naked he is under the skirt.

The awareness just gets worse when they go outside and Gerard can feel the cold air on his bare legs. It feels dangerous and transgressive. Frank takes one look at him and pulls the car keys out of his hand.

“I’ll drive,” he says, and Gerard is so grateful for the offer that he doesn’t even ask Frank why he’s doing this.

It’s a mad scramble to get in and out of the apartment in time, and – more importantly – before Mikey wakes up and sees him.

Gerard leaves Frank in the car, dashes in and has panties and fishnet tights on almost before the front door has closed behind him. He does a hatchet job on his hair and makeup – far more speed than finesse – but it’ll have to do. It kinda goes with the outfit even, rough around the edges and almost brutal in the way it dares the world. Gerard likes it – or he would if he could get over this stupid-sick resentment of the woman who looks out of the mirror at him, blinking her kohl dark eyes from under the carefully chaotic spill of her hair.

It’s worse because there’d been a moment back there when he’d had a stupid, fruitless _hope_ – but nothing’s changed. Frank barely gave him time to get out of bed before he was pushing him back into women’s clothes, and now, when he looks in the mirror he hates the woman he sees. 

“You look amazing,” Frank says when he gets back in the car. Gerard’s anger ratchets up a notch.

“Thanks,” he says, pointedly looking out of the window and away from Frank and hoping that for once in his life Frank will get the fucking message.

He’s not that lucky, though, and Frank clears his throat in a way that suggests they’re about to have an Honest Adult Conversation Where They Use Their Words™.

“I don’t think I said before,” Frank starts while Gerard tries to turn his seat into an ejector seat using the force of his brain. “But I’m really grateful. You know. For all this.”

“’s fine,” Gerard says, not bothering to look at Frank. “I’d have done it for anyone.”

Frank makes a disbelieving noise, but at least he shuts up until they get to the restaurant.

“Are you okay to do this?” he asks as the car pulls to a stop, apparently picking up on Gerard’s mood a little too late. “Cuz you don’t have to.”

He reaches out, but stops before he touches Gerard, his fingers close enough that Gerard can almost feel the heat of his skin. When Gerard finally looks at him he can’t ignore the small, miserable frown on his face.

“Course I’m okay,” he says, and tries to smile, because it’s not Frank’s fault he feels like he does – he never signed on for Gerard to be his _boyfriend_ after all. “It’s just been a long week. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“You sure?” Frank’s oddly earnest, and Gerard takes a breath to centre himself before he reaches out and squeezes Frank’s knee.

“Yeah,” he says, and this time the smile on his face feels almost genuine. “So, c’mon. Let’s do this.”

Frank loops his arm around Gerard’s waist as they go in, and Gerard relaxes into the touch before he’s aware of what he’s doing. It’s getting to be second nature now, and it’s only when he stops and thinks about it that Gerard realizes how possessive Frank is when Gerard’s dressed like this.

It’s bittersweet, and Gerard almost wishes that it wasn’t dependent on how he was dressed, but then they’re at the table and Justin is shaking his hand and Gerard’s just grateful for Frank’s touch grounding him.

“So,” Justin says as they sit down. “The news is good. I’m gonna invest and the others are too.” He grins at Frank. “You can move into an office and get some proper staff to help you out.”

“That’s great,” Frank says, his smile dazzling, and Gerard remembers why he’s doing this.

“It is.” Gerard smiles at Justin, honestly grateful. “Thank you.”

“Hey.” Justin’s cheeks are pink, like he’s pleased by Gerard’s attention and approval. “It’s the least I can do. It’s a great business, and you two are a cute couple. I’m just glad you’ve given me a chance to help out.”

“Seriously.” Frank is beaming. “This is going to help the business so much.”

“Yeah.” Gerard nods, something twisting in his chest. “Maybe you’ll even have time free to remember that there are other things going on in life.”

He says it in an undertone, but Frank hears and twists in his seat so he’s looking at Gerard, his brows pulling down in query.

It’s awkward, but Gerard can’t look away from Frank, and can’t back down.

“Is everything okay?” Justin asks, and it breaks the tension, lets them both look away.

“New business,” Frank says, like it explains everything. Maybe it does. “It’s taking too much of my time. I think Gee thinks I’m neglecting her.”

He looks up at Gerard from under his lashes, and logically Gerard knows that Frank can’t talk about this properly, but Frank said _her_ , and Gerard’s temper flares again.

“Sorry,” he says, standing up. “I’ll just be a second.”

He stalks off towards the Ladies as fast as he can, but he hasn’t even managed to close the door when Frank catches up with him.

“Hey.” Frank grabs him by the arm, turning Gerard to face him. “What did I say?”

“Nothing.” Gerard tries to wriggle away, but Frank’s grip is unbreakable, and he subsides, unwilling to cause a scene. “I just needed to use the…”

“Bullshit,” Frank says, his mouth a thin line. “It was what I said.” He looks at Gerard, his eyes widening slightly. “Wait, you mean you actually feel neglected?” 

“No,” Gerard says, but it’s a lie and he knows that Frank can tell. “I just…” He looks away. “I’m not even your girlfriend. Not really.”

“Not a girl at all,” Frank says, sounding thoughtful. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t been neglecting you.”

He’s running his thumb over the skin at the top of Gerard’s arm, and Gerard feels pinned, helpless. 

“Maybe you have been,” he says, his voice low. “Maybe I miss...”

He breaks off, not able to say that he misses how they used to be, because that’s a lie as well. He doesn’t miss that – he misses… Well. He misses something he’s never had, and that’s the problem. 

“Really,” Frank says, and Gerard’s suddenly aware of how close they are. “Gee, what…”

He’s going to ask for answers to questions Gerard doesn’t want to think about, and Gerard feels a flare of panic spiking in his veins. 

“We need to get back,” he says, even though he knows he’s just postponing the inevitable. “Justin’s gonna be wondering where we are, and…”

“Okay.” Frank takes a step back, putting enough space between them that Gerard can finally breathe again. “But we’re gonna talk about this. Later.” 

He sounds certain, and as he walks Gerard back to the table, his hand is a possessive presence on the small of Gerard’s back. 

“Sorry,” he says to Justin as he pulls out Gerard’s seat for him and guides him into it, like he thinks Gerard’ll bolt if he’s given a chance. “We just…”

“No need to explain,” Justin says, and he smiles at them like he understands. “New businesses are difficult things and it’s easy to ignore the other things in your life. The important things.”

“Yeah.” Frank grins at him, ruefully. “I tend to get caught up when people are asking for my help.” He glances at Gerard and his lips twist into a tiny smile. “Then I forget everything else and…”

“That’s the thing,” Justin says. “Dating agencies, getting together, sex… that’s only half the problem. Making a relationship work? That’s where the magic is.” He drains his drink and pats his lips with his napkin. “And you know what helps with that?”

“What?”

“Communication.” Justin smiles at them brightly. “You guys need to talk, and you don’t need me here for that.” He shakes Frank’s hand again. “I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow to make the arrangements.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank says, as soon as Justin’s out of earshot. “I never meant to make you feel neglected.”

“I didn’t,” Gerard says. “I _don’t_ – or not quite anyway.”

“What then?” Frank tightens his hold on Gerard’s arm. “Cuz there’s something bothering you. I can tell.”

“I guess…” Gerard swallows. “I just feel like you’re not seeing _me_ anymore. All you see is her.”

“Her?” Frank blinks in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you only want me when I’m dressed as a woman.”

“Seriously?” Frank starts laughing, but it trails off awkwardly when he realizes Gerard isn’t laughing as well. “You really think that?” His eyes widen as Gerard nods. “But I’m always kissing you on stage.”

“That’s _stage_ ,” Gerard says. “It doesn’t count.”

“But what about last night?” Frank asks.

Gerard shrugs. “What about it?” he says. “It was sex. It doesn’t matter that I was dressed as me – it certainly didn't stop you putting me back in women’s clothes as fast as you could.”

“Because of Justin!” Frank says, his voice low and urgent. “Because you said that if I did this with you as you, the press would be all over us.” He sits back in his seat and looks at Gerard like he’s confused. “You were the one who didn’t want that. You’re the one who decided to dress up as a girl in the first place!”

“So I could be your fake date! It’s not like you could have shown up with me on your arm and have that be okay!”

“It would have been fine!” Frank scowls at him, like Gerard’s being purposefully obtuse. “It was _you_ who didn’t want that.”

“That wasn’t it!” Gerard leans forward, desperate that Frank understands this. “It would have hurt the business if the press got involved or it spread all over the internet. I just didn’t want that. This means so much to you. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh.” Frank deflates, suddenly and completely. “I thought that you didn’t want people thinking we were together.”

“That?” Gerard snorts. “That wouldn’t bother me. Just, it’s not as if that was what you wanted anyway, and people would get the wrong idea, and…” He trails off when he sees the look on Frank’s face. “What?”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Frank asks, but there’s no heat behind the words, only some sort of horrible weariness. “It doesn’t matter that you’re a guy. I like that you’re a guy. And I like when you wear a dress, too, but not because I secretly wish you were a girl.” He looks up and makes eye contact with Gerard. “What if that is what I wanted?” 

“What?” Gerard’s stomach is clenching, and he can’t breathe, but he still tries to keep his voice low enough that the people on the next table can’t hear. “You mean, you were trying to _ask me out_?” He shakes his head. “You weren’t, Frankie. You just needed someone to help you out, and I was just convenient.”

Frank laughs, but it sounds strange – almost bitter. “When have you _ever_ been convenient?” he says, and Gerard bites his lip because he _isn’t_. He’s always too much, or not enough, or somehow, magically, both things at once. “Hey.” Frank reaches out and touches Gerard’s hand. “I was asking.” His eyes dart to Gerard’s lips and he swallows. “I am.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s mouth is suddenly very dry, and he feels breathless. “I didn’t get that.”

“Obviously,” Frank says, but his voice is warm and fond. “So, now you do…” He raises an eyebrow at Gerard, and Gerard blushes. “What is it that you want?”

“Me?” Gerard swallows around a lump in his throat. “I guess…” He takes a deep breath. “I want this to be real, not just dressing up as a woman to help you out with your business.”

It makes Frank smile, warm and fond. “You think we’ve both been stupid here?” he asks. 

“I think there’s a good chance of that,” Gerard says while something very like hope uncurls in his chest.

“I mean, what I’m trying to say…” Frank looks at Gerard, and it’s only because Gerard knows him as well as he does that he can see how scared Frank is. “...is I’d like to do this with you properly as well.”

“As me?” Gerard asks, because he needs to be sure, and his breath catches when Frank nods. “Without the dresses?”

“Mostly.” Frank’s smile is wicked. “They have their place, just, they’re not the reason I like you, you know?”

“Oh.” Gerard blushes, all his resentment at how he looks gone like it never existed. “That’s cool. We can do that.”

“Honestly?” Frank leans forward. “I don’t care how we do it – I just want to get out of here and get you home.”

—

They don’t get pulled over for speeding on the drive home, but only because there are no cops around.

—

They’re barely through the door before they’re pulling the clothes off each other, flinging them around in a way that leaves Gerard giddy and laughing.

“You’re gonna wreck my place,” Frank says, mock growling as he pins Gerard to the wall, but Gerard can feel the curve of his smile against his lips.

“Tell me to stop, then.” He tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair and pulls his head back so there’s an inch of clear space between their faces. “I’ll stop any time you ask.”

“Yeah.” Frank’s lips are slightly chapped, and from this close Gerard can see flecks of colour in his eyes that he’s never noticed before. “Not going to do that.”

“Good,” Gerard says and very deliberately kicks his panties off his foot and watching as they land on the TV.

Frank grins, wicked and dark, and pushes in again until he’s kissing the breath from Gerard’s lungs, until his leg is between Gerard’s thighs and Gerard is grinding against him like a horny teenager.

“Hope you don’t think I’m easy,” Gerard says, breathless, the next time he has space to speak. “Putting out on the first date.”

Frank laughs. “Like this is the first date. Been wanting you for ages.”

“Yeah.” Gerard smiles, running his fingers over the ink on Frank’s chest. “Ditto.”

Frank looks at him for a second like he’s never even seen him before, then he grabs Gerard’s wrist.

“Bedroom,” he says, tugging Gerard with a surprising amount of strength. “Now.”

Gerard laughs and stumbles after him, kissing the top of his shoulder whenever he gets close enough.

“Fuck.” Frank turns, his eyes dark, and shoves Gerard backwards so he flops onto the bed. “Can I fuck you? Want to feel you around me.”

“God.” Gerard’s breath catches. “Yes.”

He’s not going to lie – he’s thought about this, gotten off on the idea of this for longer than he’d be comfortable admitting. But now Frank’s hard and naked in front of him, looking at Gerard like he’s all his Christmases have come at once, and Gerard _wants_.

“Can’t believe you didn’t think I wanted you,” Frank says as fumbles open the lube. “You’re all I fucking think about.”

“You never said.” Gerard’s voice trembles as Frank slides two lubed up fingers deliciously into him. “You never even let me touch you.”

Frank chuckles. “Cuz I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Oh.” Gerard slumps back on the bed, trying to relax around Frank’s clever fingers. “We really have been stupid.”

“Maybe.” There’s the sharp sting of pain as Frank sucks a mark onto Gerard’s inner thigh. “Can make up for it now though.”

“Yeah.” The word comes out broken as Frank slides another finger in, dripping with slick. “Yeah. C’mon, Frank.”

He’s impatient and needy, but Frank doesn’t laugh. Instead he slicks his cock up and leans over Gerard, bracing himself on one arm while he lines himself up. It’s beautiful and breathtaking, and Gerard is so ready for this.

“Fuck,” Frank says, sliding in, steady and unstoppable. “ _Gerard_.”

There’s something awed in his voice, and maybe he’d take this slow but Gerard arches up to meet him and it’s a stretch, maybe too tight, but Gerard doesn’t care. He’s frantic for this, frantic for Frank and he’s not going to hold back now.

Frank meets him, though, stroke for stroke, leaning forward so he can bite messy kisses over his jaw and face, panting his own desire into Gerard’s mouth when their lips finally meet.

It’s like war – it’s like watching Frank on stage – and it’s nothing like the careful control of the past couple of weeks. It’s strange and familiar all at once, and Gerard is desperate and turned on, his cock smearing wet where it’s pressed between their bodies.

“‘m not going to last,” Frank says, his voice thready and Gerard laughs because it feels like he’s been fighting to hold back since they started.

“C’mon then,” he manages and he wraps his hand around his cock and jerks off in time to Frank’s erratic thrusts, feeling Frank in him and on him and _everywhere_.

Frank presses deep into him as he comes, digging his nails into the soft skin of his waist as he shudders through his release. He collapses onto him after, his face buried in Gerard’s neck, and Gerard feels somewhere between ecstatic and terrified. It’s nearly too much, but Frank is pressing him into the mattress, grounding him, and Gerard runs his fingers over Frank’s skin, tracing the curls and lines of his tattoos.

It’s a random thing, no intent, just satisfying his urge to touch because he’s had to deny it so often, but Frank makes an unspeakable noise, and wriggles in Gerard’s arms.

It makes Gerard pause, then he traces another tattoo, this one low on Frank’s back and the noise Frank makes this time is _definitely_ a squeal.

“Frank?” Gerard asks, conversationally. “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” Frank says, but Gerard knows what he sounds like when he’s lying. The next time he runs the tips of his fingers up Frank’s ribs, Frank tries to buck off of him. 

Gerard’s expecting that – has years of experience wrestling Frank – but he hasn’t taken into account how it will feel when Frank pulls out of him, filthy and wet. Gerard bites his lip and they both pause, looking at each other.

“Truce?” Frank suggests.

“Sure,” Gerard says, happy to lie if it wins him _this_.

He waits until Frank relaxes before he wraps his legs around Frank’s and pulls his fingers up Frank’s sides again.

“You utter fucking dick,” Frank says, his voice an octave higher than normal, and he tries to fight back, but Gerard is already rolling him, his fingers searching for all Frank’s weak points, cataloguing each one as he finds it.

They collapse together, after, breathless with laughter, their fingers tangled together like they can’t bear to let go.

“Gonna stay over?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods, satisfied.

—

It’s dark when Gerard wakes up, but he can feel that Frank’s awake from the tension in his body.

“Go to sleep,” Gerard mumbles, pulling Frank close in his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

There’s a second before Frank responds, but then he relaxes in Gerard’s arms, tangling their legs together.

“Still think I don’t want you?” he asks. Gerard stretches, feeling his muscles well used and aching in the best way.

“No,” he says and Frank laughs, cupping Gerard’s face, kissing him again and again.

—

They are not up early the next morning, and when they do finally open their eyes, it’s even longer before they make it out of bed.

“I need to go back to my place,” Gerard says at last.

Frank rests his chin on Gerard’s chest and pouts.

“I need clean clothes,” Gerard says, though Frank, warm and temporarily sated against him is the worst sort of temptation.

“You could try staying naked?” Frank suggests. He drags his fingers down Gerard’s torso with definite intent, but it’s less than ten minutes since the last round, and while Gerard’s spirit might be willing, his flesh needs forty minutes and a cup of coffee before it can fulfil its side of the bargain.

“Tempting,” Gerard says, “but cold. Besides, if I don’t go home soon, Mikey’s going to send out a search party.”

“I guess.” Frank sighs, and kisses Gerard’s armpit, which is gross and not hot in any way whatsoever. “No one wants to be on the wrong end of an angry Mikeyway.”

“True,” Gerard agrees, because Mikey’s elbows are bony enough to earn their own part of the Geneva Convention. “God. I wonder what he’s going to say?”

“Plenty,” Frank says decisively. “He’s already said enough to me.”

“But…” Gerard chews his lip. “We weren’t together then. Do you think he’ll be okay now that we are?”

“Eh.” Frank’s arms are a heavy weight around his body. “If you’re happy, he’ll come around.”

“I hope so.”

“Hey.” Frank nudges Gerard with his chin. “He will. And if he doesn’t? Fuck him. He should care about how you feel.”

“And you’re okay telling him?”

“What?” Frank blinks at him, honestly surprised. “You want to sneak around behind his back?” He shakes his head. “No. He’d be pissed if you did that – and he’d be right.”

Gerard sighs. “I meant, are you okay with people knowing about us?”

“Sometimes,” Frank says, “for such a smart man, you can be very stupid.”

It’s what Gerard needs to hear, but it doesn’t stop the uneasy curl of anxiety in his stomach as they drive home. Even Frank seems subdued. But he keeps his hand on Gerard’s back all the way from the car up to the apartment, and he smiles at Gerard like they share a secret as Gerard opens the door.

Mikey and Ray are on the sofa, some ridiculous racing game flashing on the screen in front of them, but they look up at the sound of the door, and Mikey flicks pause.

It’s uncomfortably familiar, reminiscent of every time Gerard skulked home after a night out when he lived with his parents, and he has to fight not to shuffle his feet.

Mikey doesn’t go for the nuclear option their mom favored, however. Instead he raises an eyebrow in a devastating opening salvo that nearly sees Gerard fold then and there.

“And what time do you call this?” he asks, his voice frosty, and Gerard elbows Frank in the ribs when he snorts.

“Sorry,” he says, and he’s actually contrite right now, in a way he never was when their mom yelled. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“We were busy,” Frank says, stepping up so he’s standing next to Gerard and tightening his arm around his waist. Mikey’s eyes flick to his hand and back up to his face.

“Fucking finally.” He slumps back in his seat. “You were driving us nuts.”

“What Mikey means to say,” Ray says, elbowing Mikey in the side, “is congratulations. We’re really pleased for you.”

“Pleased you got your heads out of your asses,” Mikey mutters, even though he’s grinning. “But yeah. Congratulations. I guess.”

“Are you sure?” Gerard asks, feeling worried. “Because I could…”

“Jesus no,” Ray says, too fast and too emphatic. “Just no.”

“What Ray means,” Mikey says, smirking at Ray, “is that you need to make this work, or we’re gonna lock you in a room together till you either figure it out or die trying.”

“Better be lube in there,” Frank says, beaming with malicious joy. “Or you’re gonna find us welded tog…”

“Ew.” Mikey takes a step backwards, horrified. “My brother, dude! You can’t tell me things like that.”

“Then give him your fucking blessing,” Frank says, and Gerard can hear the honesty under the joke. “Cuz for some reason, he needs it.”

“Fine.” Mikey rolls his eyes and pulls Gerard into a rough hug. “I really am glad for you. And you…” He glares at Frank. “If you hurt my brother I’m gonna kill you.”

“Fair enough,” Frank says, then kicks Ray in the shins. “Aren’t you meant to threaten Gerard now?”

Ray looks at him, disbelieving. “Seriously? You mean he’s brave enough to let you get close to his…” He darts a glance at Mikey and makes a gesture that includes his general pants area. “And you think there’s _any way_ I can credibly threaten him?” He shakes his head. “It’s not gonna work, dude.”

Frank looks gloomy for a moment, then brightens up.

“I’m fairly sure that means you’re stuck with me,” he tells Gerard. “Now, go get some clothes so we can head back to mine.” He leers at Mikey. “I don’t want to traumatize your fragile little brother.”

“Does this mean you don’t need the agency anymore?” Ray is asking as Gerard emerges from his room, a bag of clean clothes in his hand, and Frank laughs.

“Nah.” He grabs the bag off Gerard, and leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “More people need the chance at this.” His eyes narrow. “Actually, I should set up you guys…”

“Yeah.” Mikey looks up from his place on the sofa. “No.”

“What he _means_ to say,” Ray says with fond exasperation. “Is we’ve been together for months.” He shrugs an apology at Gerard. “You guys have been too caught up in your drama to notice.”

“Oh.” Gerard blinks in surprise, then catches the look of worry on Mikey’s face. “I mean, that’s _amazing_.” He hugs Ray then throws himself on Mikey to hug him as well. “I mean it.”

“Yeah?” Mikey looks up at Frank, his expression more relaxed than Gerard’s seen it in ages. “What do you think?”

“Mikeyway.” Frank shakes his head, his face delighted. “My dating agency got my whole fucking band together – nothing’s gonna stop it now!”

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to my mysterious and unknown beta readers (to be ~~blamed~~ named later), without whom this would be short, unsatisfying, and full of mistakes. Much like the rest of my life.


End file.
